To Catch a Thief
by Erica North
Summary: Ginna learned early the only way to get what she wanted was to take it, and she's good at taking what she wants. Betrayed by her guild master and stuck in Skyrim she finds herself in debt to the Riften thieves guild.
1. Chapter 1

Ginna had always envied the Altmer. Beautiful, graceful, powerful… dangerous. As a little girl she used to hide in the shadows of the White Gold Tower watching the Thalmor soldiers march the streets and daydreaming she was one of them. Prestigious, glamorous, rich, she found herself curious about what types of things such people would carry in their pockets, so she started reaching in as they would pass by. She would quietly sneak behind them and draw out their coin and precious personal items and then pull back into the shadows again to inspect them. Some of them she kept, hiding them in the floorboard under her bed so her father, Hakon, wouldn't find them, others she would drop into the sewer grates for fear of what might happen to her if someone caught her with them in her pockets.

After a time, the thrill of getting caught was half the rush, a part of her coming to depend on the adrenaline surge that made her heart thump in her chest every time she worked herself up to the task.

But she never got caught; at least she thought she hadn't. But there were others like her, those who kept to the shadows and all along one of them had been watching her. The Gray Fox, who she later came to know as Severus Ventius, master of the Thieves Guild in Cyrodiil. Hidden among the shades of buildings, eying her as she dropped her hands into the pockets of others and lifted out their personal effects with fingers light as feathers, he had followed her around for nearly a month before finally letting her know she'd been caught.

"Throwing away perfectly good gold should be punishable by death." Severus grabbed her one afternoon in the alley behind her father's apartment building, heavy fingers curling around her upper arm until she could feel the sensitive skin bruising under his grasp. "But you won't be doing that again, girl. Come with me."

She knew who The Gray Fox was. His men had come to rough her father up more than a few times throughout the course of her life. Hakon liked to drink and when he drank, he gambled. He owed everyone in Cyrodiil more coin than he would ever have to pay them all back, and then some. After Severus caught her, he used her father's debts to his advantage—claiming her as his protégé to settle Hakon's debts and then running him out of the city. She was all of eight-years-old the day her da left Cyrodiil for good, mumbling good riddance to bad rubbish without even looking back over his shoulder at his own flesh and blood.

Ginna should have cared, but she didn't. Hakon was her father only because he'd slept with a whore and put a baby in her belly, but he wasn't her family. She'd been a burden to him, little more than a servant, when he was actually around. She'd spent most of her life fending for herself, but Severus promised her the day he took her in that she would never want for anything again. He would teach her to hone her skills to her advantage and make her richer than she ever dreamed possible.

And he had done just as he'd promised. He'd been the only one in her life who ever had and she had loved him better than she'd loved her own father.

"You can be anything you want, anyone you want, Ginna. A priestess today, a contessa tomorrow."

"Not an Altmer."

He laughed at her then, his soft hand coming down to stroke her pudgy cheek. "No, dear child. You can never be an Altmer, but you can make them wish that they were you."

"How?"

"By being everything to everyone, while also being nothing to anyone at all. You are a shadow, Ginna, and shadows can always change."

She'd never fully understood those words, and even now, as she sat watching Ambassador Elenwen float among her guests like a glorious vision of light and beauty, she still didn't get it. Severus had died when Ginna was six and twenty, his place as Guildmaster passing to Brutus Arenicci and all of his mysteries going with him to the grave. A year had passed since his death, and yet she still found herself pondering his mysteries and wisdom as if he somehow still whispered them into her ear.

Gaze passing across the room, she lifted her brandy to her lips and sipped slowly while peering over the edge of her snifter. She smudged the color from her lips off the edge of the glass and leaned back, the liquor warming through her like fire, calming the nervous tingle in her belly that always gripped her just before a heist job—especially one with a payoff as big as the one she was going to walk away with when she got back to Cyrodiil.

Brutus had contracted her out to Denthor Galleon, one of the richest, and perhaps fattest collectors in Cyrodiil. The man never failed to disgust her, but he was one of their better paying clients, and jobs from him were never to be turned down. Denthor had a penchant for Elven artifacts and boyish young men, and judging from the sketches Markus showed her, the statue he'd sent her to retrieve was oddly enough a perfect combination of both.

She had yet to see the blessed thing anywhere in the Embassy, but Markus promised her before she left that it was small enough to carry out unnoticed and she'd have no problems getting it across the border, which she was more than ready to do. Her father was a Nord, from Windhelm, but even he hadn't been able to handle the cold. War had driven him south into Cyrodiil, and that was where he'd met her mother. At least that was the story he'd told her.

Skyrim was naught but ice and snow, and she longed for the warmth of the gardens of home. The Imperial City wasn't as strong as it once was, not after the White Gold Tower fell to the Aldmeri Dominion during the Great War, but it was still a proud city and she had always called it home. Closing her eyes, she could almost smell the cherry blossoms in full bloom, their delicious fragrance wafting on the slow breeze amidst the fresh smell of constantly moving water. She could almost hear the rush of waves lapping at the sides of the canal that ran through the city, gondolas sweeping up and down the wet streets, carrying passengers wherever they needed to go.

"You looked like you could use another drink." The smooth brogue that interrupted her thoughts came from over her left shoulder. Opening her eyes, she glanced up into the hovering shadow that obscured the flickering lights of the chandelier just overhead.

Holding up her half-full glass, she shook her head. "No thank you. I've already got a drink."

"My mistake." He drew back to look at her, the light cast across his face then to reveal the most dazzling set of green eyes she'd ever seen. Green, like emeralds. The very first treasure she'd ever pickpocketed and kept in that little box under the floorboards in her father's home had been a flawless emerald. She'd always had a particular fondness for them after that, the way they captured the light when you held them up to inspect them. They were her one weakness. She still had that very first emerald she'd stolen. She kept it on her person at all times, like a good luck charm.

"What can I do for you, friend?" she asked. "You were obviously looking for an excuse to come and talk to me. Now that you're here, let's not waste each other's time."

"All these interesting people to watch, conversations to listen in on… and here you sit in the shadows all alone. If I didn't know any better, I'd think you had something to hide, lass."

She threw back her head and laughed, great undulating waves of sound that quickly dispersed into the conversation of the party. She'd seen him when she came in, lingering in the corner at the side of an elegant, dark-haired, older woman dressed in the finest clothes. Not finer than Ginna's, but hers were stolen. That woman owned what she was wearing. Really owned it, as if it had been custom tailored to her lithe form. She'd dismissed him easily, thinking him little more than the woman's toy, but he had been the first person in the room she'd noticed on account of his fiery hair. Much like emeralds, she'd always had a thing for redheads; something about them just seemed to stand out in a crowd and he'd definitely stood out. His clothes were as fine as her own, and though they looked good on him, he didn't own his outfit either. She could tell.

Severus had taught her long ago how to size up every mark in a room, how to weigh pockets with nothing more than a glance and detect falsehood in the eyes of everyone around her. She didn't know what this guy's game was, but he was definitely playing false with her.

When he caught the direction of her gaze, he said, "Maven Black-Briar. She owns the Black-Briar Meadery in Riften, and pins more than half of Skyrim under her thumb. She is quite possibly the most powerful woman in this room and she's been sizing you up all night."

"And why's that?"

"She doesn't know you," he explained. "No one here seems to."

"I'm an open book," she assured him. "Ask me anything. What would you like to know?"

"Will you dance with me?"

"Dance with you?" She laughed again, tossing the white-gold locks of her hair over her shoulder. He hadn't come all the way over there to dance with her. He was fishing for information, probably sent by Maven Black-Briar to find out whatever he could, using his most valuable asset: his charm.

"Don't tell me they don't dance in Cyrodiil anymore." He held out a hand to her, expectant, as if he'd known before the words left his lips she wouldn't be able to turn him down.

"Of course we do." She lowered her small dainty fingers into his wide palm and he curled his gentle grip around hers, drawing her up from her chair and sweeping her close to his chest with a swift gesture that made her feel as if she were light as air. He was so much taller than she was, she felt like little more than a child nestled against him. "How did you know I was from Cyrodiil?"

Moving in closer, one hand on melded to her hip and the other clasping her own between them as he moved, he breathed her in and whispered, "You smell of cherry blossoms." Their display had prompted others to join in, the quartet of musicians striking up a slow waltz that brought timid couples together and circled them almost awkwardly across the floor. But there was nothing awkward about the way this stranger moved with her, and for a moment that only served to make her more uncomfortable. "Do you have a name?" he asked.

"I thought you only wanted to dance." She smirked up at him, the ice of her eyes glinting with mischief.

"I never dance with a girl without at least getting her name." He lifted an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth tugging into a smug grin that nearly matched her own. He had delicious lips, she thought, formed like a bow and nestled just under the neatly-trimmed red hair of his mustache, and the jagged scar that marred his left cheek only served to make him seem more exciting and dangerous. Yes, he was dangerous. She could feel it emanating from him, burning through her skin and setting off every alarm in her body, but she didn't stiffen. Stiffening would let him know she was wary, and she didn't want him to know anything about her.

"Surely you saw my name on the guest list."

She leaned into the turn as they spun together, flowing outward as he extended his arm and then following in as he drew her back to his chest. She felt the beat of her heart speed up at their closeness. It had been a long time since she'd been with a man; most of them were pigs anyway, and she was sure this one was no different. _Breathe, Ginna_, she told herself, but that simple, automated response seemed to shut down every time she glanced up into those sharp, green eyes.

"Aye, lass," he nodded. "But I've been staring at you all night, and you just don't look like a Svetlana, no matter how I squint my eyes or turn my head."

The guy was good; a little too good.

"Then who do I look like, if not who I say I am?"

"I haven't quite figured that out yet, but when I do…" His words trailed off as the song ended and the bodies began to move away from the center of the floor. They were still standing there, still holding onto each other, and though it was only for a few seconds it felt like too long.

"Well, thank you for the dance." She drew back and pulled her fingers out of his. "It was lovely."

Turning away from him, she started to walk back to her table, weaving through the milling bodies still awkwardly cluttering the edge of the floor. "Don't you want to at least know _my_ name?" he called after her. She glanced back only for a second, making eye contact and then moving forward again. "It's Brynjolf," he said, just a little too loudly for her liking. Everyone at the party was looking at them, and she'd learned long ago to never make a scene in a place she was planning to get away from clean.

Shuffling into the corridor, she leaned back against the wall and closed her eyes. Her heart was still racing; she could still feel the warmth of his strong hand resting loosely on her hip, the exhale of his breath fluttering through her hair before passing across her cheek when he'd tugged her closer. It made her skin feel warm just thinking about it, about his strong hands, his solid form against hers in a dark room.

Ugh. It had been a long time since she'd been with a man. Long enough that she felt distracted and she couldn't afford a distraction. Not then, not before she finished the job. Calming herself with deep, focused breaths, she reached into the inner pocket of her dress to draw out the Embassy layout Brutus had mapped out for her. Her racing heart nearly stopped beating completely. Her pocket was empty, both the layout and her emerald, gone.

She'd spoken to many of the guests throughout the night, but the only person who'd gotten close enough to touch her had been… "Brynjolf," she scowled into her shoulder, glancing back toward the open door she'd just come through. "That son of a bitch."

A thief… and a light-fingered pickpocket to boot. She should have known. She remembered a time when the guilds actually communicated with each other to avoid botching a job by sending two thieves to hit the same mark, but things had started going downhill even before Severus died. There was almost no treatise between guilds at all anymore and the lack of organization was rolling them all downhill into the gutters.

But this thief… He had a lot of nerve. No one had ever picked her pocket and lived to tell the tale. His taking the Embassy layout didn't matter. She'd spent the entire trip memorizing the layout, and she was relatively sure she didn't really need to look at it one more time. It was the loss of her emerald that made her shudder. She'd had it for almost twenty years, and though she'd never been superstitious, that emerald was her good luck charm.

She leaned around the corner to peer back into the room. She expected to find him standing next to Maven Black-Briar again, whispering whatever he thought he might have learned into her ear, but he wasn't. He lingered near the food table, picking through the offerings as if they bored him.

Nobody stole from her. She was going to have to kill him, she thought, cynically drawing in another deep breath and then releasing it to calm herself.

Shame too. He had really pretty eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

Ginna returned to her seat at first, swirling the brandy in her snifter while she watched him like a cat. He made his way around the room as if he actually belonged there, mingling with the guests, flirting with the women. He spent several minutes sharing conversation with Erikur, the two of them gawking almost hungrily at the bard singing Age of Aggression in the corner of the room. She needed to find a way to get close to him again, get her emerald back and maybe even slip some poison into his drink to teach him a little lesson.

No… that would be bad. As much as she wanted to strike him down for lowering his hand into her pocket, the Embassy wasn't the place to do that, and certainly not in the midst of such an important job. Severus had taught her to tuck her grudges away if they weren't a direct threat in the path of her mission, and for the moment, Brynjolf wasn't a direct threat. If he got in her way, she'd deal with him appropriately. For now she had work to do. When the job was done, she'd hunt him down and take back what was hers, but in the meantime she couldn't help feeling a little insecure. He'd taken her good luck charm.

She downed the last gulp of brandy in her glass, and lowered the empty cup to the table. She watched him saunter away from Erickur and make his way toward an empty table in the opposite corner from her. When he sat down, his gaze reached across the room, catching hers and holding it for a moment. The son of a bitch was actually grinning at her; confident, complacent. It was almost like he was daring her to lose her cool and make a scene, or challenging her to confront him, but she wouldn't give him the satisfaction he was looking for on either fronts.

Instead, she grabbed another snifter of brandy from the passing waiter and rose slowly from her chair. She stalked toward him, watching his eyes light up with intrigue as she made her way across the room and then she cut left, sidling up to Erikur flirtatiously.

"I overheard you talking about Solitude. You're a thane there? That must be a very important position."

"I'm one of the most important men in Solitude." He beamed over at her, delighted by her feigned interest. "The Lady Elisif looks to me on all matters, and I advise her accordingly. If I've told her once, I've told her a hundred times, the Imperials are good for business and business is good for Skyrim." Sipping at his drink he lowered it again and laughed. "And that business is good for me."

"I imagine you meet all sorts of interesting people in your line of work, a lot of women… A man as handsome as you must have to beat them off with a stick."

His face flushed with the heat of desire as he glanced toward the bard in the corner again. "Between you and me, I've known more women than a married man should."

"Oh, you're married," she lamented falsely. "What a shame."

"That's never stopped me in the past, if you know what I mean." He lifted an eyebrow and she passed a glance toward Brynjolf again. He was still watching her, leaning back in his chair with one hand rested atop his thigh, the other clutched loosely around a flagon of mead. "My wife may as well bed dead, for all I care."

"I've always had a thing for married men." She returned her gaze to Erikur.

The man was drunk; she recognized it in the glaring, bloodshot vessels of his eyes. He'd be easy to lure away from the party, and even easier to ditch once they were lost together within the tangled maze of the Embassy. The statue was on display in the upstairs of the main hall on an end table. If she could just get him to keep drinking as he followed her up the stairs, the stamina draining draught she'd slipped into his drink would kick in and he'd be passed out on the floor before he even knew what had hit him. It was a risky maneuver. Men like him only had one thing on their minds, and sometimes not even alcohol laced with stamina poison was enough to deter their roaming hands and insatiable lust.

"And I've always had a thing for beautiful women." She felt his hand on the small of her back, leaning closer to her to whisper, "What do you say we slip away from these boring drudges and find a quiet place to get better acquainted."

Ginna's eyes lit up with feigned intrigue and she looped her arm through his. "I can't think of anything else I'd rather do."

They sauntered almost casually through the party, stopping to mingle and chat with the other guests, but Ginna kept her eye on Brynjolf as they moved. She couldn't tell from his expression alone what he was thinking, but he was definitely fascinated with her. She passed by him on her way toward the hallway with Erikur still on her arm. She turned her head over her shoulder and winked at him, the corner of her full mouth quirking into a smug grin.

She was correct in her assumption that a man like Erikur pulled enough weight that they wouldn't be followed by the Thalmor guards lingering at every door post. The Thalmor didn't really seem to care at all, allowing them to pass and click their way up the stairs. She giggled and cooed as his wandering hands tickled at her waist while and slapped at her backside as she tapped her way up the stairs with him behind her. She turned into him, lowering her body against his to keep him enticed.

"I don't even know your name," he murmured, turning an eager kiss toward her lips. She moved her head back, his mouth brushing just beneath her chin.

"Isn't it better that way?" she purred, hands lowering to the collar of his shirt to draw him further up the stairs.

Erikur growled like a saber cat, anxiously picking up his feet to follow, stopping several times to tip back his drink as he stumbled up the stairs to catch her. She walked backwards to entice him, wagging her finger so he would follow and then jaunting playfully down the hallway and cutting into the room on the right. She caught a glimpse of the statue, just where Markus had marked it on her map, and then she returned her attention to her prey. She quietly closed the door behind them and narrowed her eyes seductively at him.

Stalking toward him, his reaching arms tucked around her waist and drew her into his waiting mouth. He tasted of brandy, the wet slip of his tongue passing through her lips as his wandering hands began eagerly yanking up the hem of her gown. She untangled the strap of his belt, drawing the leather through the buckles almost aggressively and then holding them in both hands, she wrenched his body into hers. She needed that poison to kick in, and fast, otherwise she was going to find herself in a bad way and the wretched feeling would never wash off, no matter how hot the water she bathed in.

Her aggression only seemed to ignite his passions further, his wide blue eyes narrowing with intrigue as she pulled him around and backed him toward the bed in the corner of the room. She pushed him onto his back and his weight bounced atop the firm mattress. The jostling must have finally done the trick because he started to reach for her, and then he wavered to the side, shaking his head to try and loosen the grip of the harmless poison in his blood.

"You little vixen," he growled, a slow grin drawing at the corners of his mouth. "Come to Daddy." He reached for her again, his hand missing the target. Shoulders dropping back, he flopped onto the mattress behind him with a soft thump and his eyes fluttered back into his head before closing.

Ginna grinned, more pleased with herself than she'd been in a long time. Too easy, she thought, glancing toward the statue on the bedside table. She smoothed out the ruffles in her dress and jerked her head to the left, cracking the muscles in her neck as she started toward it. Reaching out, she caressed the marble, fingers dancing lithely over the curves. Denthor may have been a twisted wretch of a man, but he did have good taste.

She was lifting it from the table and preparing to lower it into her satchel when the sound of the doorknob turning caught her attention. Ducking into the shadow of the wardrobe, she watched it creak open. Her hand lingered on the hilt of her dagger, but for a moment the door only rested at half-open, and then he slipped into the room, scanning it cautiously before resting on her and closing the door behind him.

"Clever move, lass, luring him up here like that. I'm impressed." There was admiration in his grin, a flash of respect as his stare roved leftward again to rest on Erikur, laying passed out on the bed with his breeches slack around his ankles. "You set it all up nice and easy for me."

"For you?" she laughed. "I don't think so. Back out of here nice and slow, and I'll let you live… for now. But first, give me back my jewel."

"You'll let me…" His own chuckle echoed through the quiet room for a moment. "Let me get this straight. I walk away, and _you're _going to let _me_ live?" Returning his eyes to her, he squinted, beautiful mouth pursed tight into a challenging scowl. "I have you at the greater disadvantage. I don't think that's how it's going to go down at all."

"I do."

"Do you now?"

"We can dance all night, _Brynjolf_, if that is even your real name, but I promise you only one of us will walk away from that dance alive."

"Sounds like my kind of dance, lass. Let's do this thing."

_Damn it!_ She cursed under her breath. If he botched this job for her… Ugh! She needed to calm her emotions, or she would be the one botching the job.

Drawing her dagger into the light, it glinted for a moment and he pulled up his own blades, bouncing back and forth on the balls of his feet as he swayed. They spiraled and pirouetted around each other in a series of strikes and misses, lunges and back-ups as they sized up one another's skill like two starved predators in a Cyrodiilian arena.

"You never should have come here," she hissed, the tip of her blade catching his shoulder as she feinted left. It tore through fabric of his fine clothes, but didn't slice the skin. Looking down at the tear, there was pure fury in his eyes when he lifted them back to her. She clenched the fist of her left hand and drew it back, catching him in the jaw and staggering him just enough to knock him off his feet with a heavy rush of her hard shoulder when she charged him. She found herself straddling his chest, the muscles of her thighs holding both his arms tight against him so he couldn't move, the edge of her dagger pressed to his throat. "Who sent you?"

"I might ask the same of you."

"You might, but seeing as you're the one with a dagger to his throat, I think I'll keep asking questions and you'll answer them, or I'll cut you. Now, who sent you?"

He was a big man and probably outweighed her by at least six stone, maybe seven. No matter how fast she moved, a woman her size wouldn't dominate a man like him for long, which meant she had to act quickly if she wanted answers. But his mind seemed to work much like hers, and he wrenched his arms up to free himself. The movement caught her off guard and he sat up, throwing her back into the hard marble floor between his legs and pressing his weight against the backs of her thighs to hold her in place. Her dagger dropped from her hand when he'd thrown her back and skittered across the floor just out of reach. His large hand came up to curl around her neck, pinning her tight to the floor, but he wasn't choking her.

This guy was _good_.

"Now who's in a bad way?" There was that gentle fondness in his eyes again, an almost intrigued shimmer of desire as he pressed down harder to stretch her muscles until she actually winced in pain. "Just tell me who you are, lass and I'll let you walk away from this still breathing."

"You let me go, and I'll kill you," she promised in a hoarse whisper.

"What? And end this little dance of ours forever?" He shifted his weight again, dropping her legs down around his hips, but still holding her throat like a vice. His loose hair hung against the sides of his face, swaying every time he exhaled. "I don't think you have the guts."

"Try me." It was a strange thing to notice, but she was positioned in such a way that she could feel his arousal pressing hard against her tailbone. Either he had a dagger stashed in a strange place, or their melee had turned him on. Ginna didn't know if that fact should intrigue or disgust her, and for the moment she felt a little bit of both. A warm sensation stirred in her belly—desire mingled with distaste.

"What's your name?"

"I am just a shadow. Shadows don't have names."

Her answer frustrated him, and for a moment he tightened his grip to remind her who was in the dominant position, his hips pressing harder, weight almost crushing her small body beneath him. "Who sent you after the statue?"

"No one."

"You're running out of time, lass. Pretty soon, someone's going to realize we've all gone missing from their little party, and then we'll both be in a bad way."

"I guess you should just kill me and get it over with."

"Killing someone with your particular talents would be a crime," he pondered thoughtfully. "Just tell me who you are. I must know."

"Get used to disappointment."

Scowling, she watched his brow wrinkle with frustration, but his fingers around her neck started to loosen as if he planned to let her up. That was when the Thalmor guard charged into the room with their weapons drawn and their wide, golden eyes glistening with malice.

Her stare shot up to the man above her, their eyes locked in confusion as the head guard said, "Thank you, citizen, for your efforts in capturing this wanted criminal. Ginna of Cyrodiil, you've committed crimes against the Thalmor Embassy and the people of Skyrim. What do you have to say for yourself?"

There was no escape, even as Brynjolf began to release his weight from her, standing up and looking down at her with regretful, green eyes.

"You caught me," she sat up and held up her hands to show them she had no intention of fighting.

Brynjolf stood in the shadow of the corner of the room, watching them search her person for stolen objects. And as they led her out of the room in irons, she caught his gaze from the corner of her eye. Brow furrowed, lips pursed tight in confusion, she swore she thought she saw him mouth the words, "Sorry, lass," and then he lowered his head.


	3. Chapter 3

Brutus Arenicci was going to die, though Ginna didn't know how she was going to pull it off yet. The Black Sacrament _could_ be performed in prison, but killing the guards wouldn't be easy and getting her hands on the rest of the items she needed damn near impossible. They had dropped her into isolation, and the only person she'd seen for the last week had been the same guard who slid her meals across the floor morning, noon and night. They'd advised her to get cozy in her cell; she was going to be there a long time, but she'd promised herself after they gave her the letter from Brutus that when she got out of prison, and she would get out, she was going to hunt that bastard down and kill him. Slowly.

She felt like such an idiot. She'd always prided herself on her observational skills and yet all the signs had been there. After Brutus became Gray Fox, a title Severus had wished to pass down to her, Brutus's unconscious efforts to destroy the Guild had become painstakingly obvious. At first she'd just thought he was making foolish mistakes, but the more time she had to dwell on it, the more likely it seemed that he was tearing the Guild apart on purpose. He'd been Severus's first protégé, but after their mentor brought Ginna to live in House Dareloth, the Gray Fox had taken a special interest in her fostering and Brutus had never forgiven him for it.

They'd grown up together, been trained and raised in the art of thievery as siblings charged with watching each other's backs, but as with any siblings, rivalry for father's affection drove a wedge between them and sowed seeds of jealousy into Brutus's heart that he'd never quite gotten over. Even after Severus's death, Ginna yielded, wholeheartedly supporting Brutus's ascension to Guildmaster; she'd never wanted the position. It was too much responsibility and would take her out of the field, but the slight of Severus choosing her instead of him to take his place had made him even bitterer.

_G~_

_Look at Father's precious girl now. He'd be so ashamed if he could see his perfect little thief there in that cell. At least he'd be happy to know you'll be well cared for in prison. Three squares a day and thick, impenetrable walls to warm you during the long, endless winter months in Skyrim. I'd love to see you ghost your way out of this one._

_Fare thee well, my dear sister. Nocturnal bless and keep you until we meet again._

_Your Loving Brother in Crime_

_~B_

With little else to do in her newfound abundance of spare time, she'd read it at least a thousand times, and though she wanted to, she didn't cry. _Betrayed_; by her own family. She would have rather he'd sent the Dark Brotherhood after her, but Brutus knew a prison sentence was far worse than death for someone like them. He'd caged her like a bird and clipped her wings until they were little more than nubs that would never carry her to the sky again.

She hated him for it.

She'd never hated him before, not the way he hated her. She'd loved and respected him, even looked up to him despite his many flaws, but as she fumed and stewed there in that cell, she vowed to herself that when she managed to escape Solitude, she'd twist a knife into his belly herself and sit back with a bottle of mead just watching him writhe and plead as he bled out.

Seven days passed; probably the longest week of her life. She raged inside, the fire in her belly burning so hot at times she actually wished she'd just explode. The guards kept their distance, never getting close enough for her to pick their pockets for the key, but on the eighth day her salvation came in a form she'd never expected.

The thick and arrogant sound of Erikur's voice actually sickened her a little when she heard it echoing through the dark corridors of the dungeon, but as he grew closer with every word, she caught a second voice and though she'd never admit it, even to herself, it was a voice she was actually glad to hear.

"And so you see, the lass was only doing what I asked her to do. You have to understand that. We're in a bad way, down in Riften, Erikur. A bad, bad way. We need to gain ground in Skyrim again, or we're going to fall apart."

_Brynjolf?_ She had thought about killing him too during that very long week, but every time she'd tried to imagine it, she remembered that sad confusion in his eyes when the guard had clapped her in irons, the careful formation of that silent apology. It hadn't been his fault. He'd only been doing his job, just as she had been doing hers, but maybe if he'd kept his hands out of her pockets, none of it would have ever happened in the first place.

"You picked the wrong guy to gain ground with, Brynjolf." Erikur growled. "You should have come to me first, and at least let me know I was part of your little plan. I would have been more than happy to play along… for a price. That bitch of yours gave me a headache I haven't been able to shake off for more than a week, and just letting her walk out of here seems a gods damned shame."

"We owe you a considerable debt. As you already know, Maven's sunk a great deal of coin into her release, and the Guild will be at your disposal should you ever require our services."

Their shadows stretched across the walls, growing closer as their voices grew louder.

"A considerable debt indeed, and one I won't soon forget." Erikur assured him. "The only reason I'm doing this is because I have so much respect for Maven, and she has promised me you'd get this girl out of the city before I strangle her with my bare hands."

"And I will. You have my word."

Ginna didn't move from the floor, but sat with her back propped against the wall when they approached. The cell was so dark, the burning torchlight Erikur held in front of the door actually made her eyes ache, so she turned her gaze into her shoulder to avoid it.

"Ah. There's the miserable little gutter wretch now, all rags and humiliation…" Erikur laughed at his own jest as he lifted his keys to sift through them for the right one. "I meant what I said, Brynjolf. Get her out of Solitude before the sun goes down, or I'll have both of you thrown back into this cell so fast, not even Maven Black-Briar's influence will be able to save you."

"Come on, _Ginna_. I'm taking you home."

Home? She no longer had a home to go back to. He held out a hand to her, long fingers stretching in a gesture of trust and friendship, but why? She didn't reach for it, but leveled her squinting gaze at him to try and understand why he would put his neck on the line to help a stranger. His eyes gleamed like jewels in the torchlight, reminding her for a moment of what he'd taken from her before his little stunt had landed her where she now sat.

She spat at his hand, her temper momentarily outweighing her desire for revenge, and then she looked back down at the floor.

"All right," Erikur began to back out of the cell. "Let her rot here, for all I care."

Brynjolf wiped his hand on his pants, tilting his head as he took a deep breath to calm himself. She imagined he had quite a temper. Redheads always did. "I went to a lot of trouble to get you out of here, Ginna. Now let's move before the good man changes his mind again."

She regarded him for a moment, watched him hold his hand out to her again, and then she lowered her eyes to the floor once more in shame. She felt so helpless and defeated, the depression of Brutus's betrayal mingling with her doubt and confusion as she had weighed out every moment of her life during that last week of seclusion.

He didn't know her, didn't owe her anything, and yet there he was. People in their line of work rarely lent a hand to a fellow thief unless they were in the same guild family or had history together, and neither of those descriptions fit. Surely he was going to expect something in return; people like them always did, and though she quickly called to mind that hard reminder of his arousal while they'd been skirmishing at the Embassy, he didn't seem the type to ask for _those_ kinds of favors.

Then again, she knew nothing of him at all; maybe he was exactly that type, and if all it was going to take to repay him was a roll and tumble in the hay, she'd definitely slept with a few less attractive men in her days. Tentatively, she reached for his hand, and he drew her up from the floor with a hard yank.

"Here, put these on." He handed her a loose-fitting tavern dress and she slipped it on over the rags they'd given her after stripping her of her belongings.

As she glanced down at the threadbare dress, she realized it was almost as humiliating as the rags they'd put her in. It made her look like a child playing too hard at being grown up, and when he noticed her discomfort, she swore he grinned a little—as if he'd humbled her with his choice of clothing.

"Make sure you keep her out of Solitude for a good, long time," Erikur called as Brynjolf lowered his hand onto her shoulder and led her down the dark, winding corridor to freedom. "Next time I won't be nearly so forgiving. And keep your hands out of other people's pockets while you're in my city. Both of you."

They didn't speak, only walked. He hadn't even given her a pair of shoes to wear, and the hard ground was cold beneath her bare feet, stones nipping at the sensitive skin with every step she treaded forward, but she didn't complain. Brynjolf hustled her through the busy streets of Solitude quickly, guiding her out the gates before he said anything to her at all. Several times she glanced back over her shoulder at him, but he didn't even look at her when she did. He seemed focused, his stare straightforward as they passed the stables.

"Where are you taking me?" she finally asked.

"We need to find you a pair of shoes," he said, pausing near the stables and turning around to finally look down at her. "It's a good long walk to Riften, and you'll never make it in your bare feet."

"Riften?" She stared up at him, crossing her arms over her chest almost defiantly. "What's in Riften?"

"My guild," he explained. "I watched you like a hawk at the Embassy, lass. You've got skill, and we could use someone like you right now."

She remembered hearing him tell Erikur that his guild was in a bad way. She'd heard similar rumors that the guild branch in High Rock was failing as well, and even the Khajiit caravans were experiencing troubles. Nocturnal help them. Was all of Tamriel cursed?

"Well, if it's anything like my guild, I don't want any part of it. I'm done getting stabbed in the back over coin."

"From what I've gathered, you don't have much of a choice, lass," he pointed out. "You can't go back to Cyrodiil. They'll be on the lookout for you, but if you'd like me to take you back to Solitude and ask Erikur to lock you up in that cell, I have a feeling he'd be more than glad to do it. And he might actually take what you denied him when you slipped that bit of poison into his drink," he narrowed his gaze down over her to emphasize his point. "Besides, you owe me a debt now, and I fully plan for you to repay it. I had to do some pretty fast talking to convince Maven to help you out, and she'll be expecting you to pay her back as well."

"I owe you a debt?" She'd been expecting it, but she leaned back to look at him incredulously anyway. Did this man's nerve know no bounds?

"Aye," he nodded. "If it wasn't for me, you'd still be sitting in that cell."

"If it wasn't for you, I would have never gotten caught in the first place," she pointed out.

"I'm not the one who set you up to take a fall." She lowered the hard ice of her glare to the ground at her feet. She hated that he was right. "You were doomed the minute you walked into that job, lass."

"Maybe," she sighed. "Setup or not, I would have gotten out clean if you hadn't dug your grubby little paws into my pocket and taken my good luck charm."

Fishing into his pants, he drew out the emerald and held it up to her. "You mean this?" She reached out to snatch it back from him, but he palmed it quickly, closing his fingers around it in a tight fist. "This is just a jewel, a pretty one, yes, and it'll fetch us the coin we need to get to Riften, but in the end we make our own luck, lass, and right now, I'm the luckiest charm you've got."

"You are not selling that emerald," she balked. "It belongs to me."

"I'll make a deal with you," he started, glancing toward the farm at her back. "Show me what you're made of. Find a way to get us enough coin to get to Riften, and I'll give you back your little bauble. But if you can't, I'm selling it to the first fence we cross paths with."

She followed his gaze to the quiet farmstead, eying both the house and the stable. "Deal." She held out her hand to shake on it, and watched the corner of his perfect mouth tug upright into a grin as he reached for it. They shook hands and then she stepped back, scanning Katla's farm again for obscure entry points.

Everyone who worked the farm was out in the field harvesting crops, even the farmer's son, and the stablemaster was occupied with re-shoeing the horses. No one even seemed to notice when she ducked in and out of both buildings, her shallow pockets brimming with jewelry and coin and a small sack under her arm, stuffed with apples for the road. She'd slipped into a pair of Katla's old leather boots before sneaking out of the house, passing by the woman's husband, Brilling, and deftly wiping everything from his pockets without incident. They'd never even known she was there.

Brynjolf crouched down on a log near the side of the road, waiting with his arms crossed for her to return. "Nice work," he nodded appreciatively as she held up the loot for him to inspect. "I have a contact in Markarth I can sell to and we can probably scrape enough coin take a carriage from there, but it's still quite a ways to the Reach. I hope those boots are comfortable."

She wiggled her toes inside the leather as they both glanced down at her feet, and then she shrugged. "They'll do."

"Shall we go then?"

"Aren't you forgetting something?"

He brought his hand up, opening his fingers to reveal the emerald clenched in his palm. "Holding onto something like this seems a real shame. You sure you can't be convinced to sell it?"

"It has sentimental value," she said, swiping it out of his hand and tucking it into her pocket. "And if I ever catch you trying to take it from me again, I'll cut your gods damned fingers off."

"Whoa, lass," he laughed, leaning back and holding up his hand. "A sentimental thief," he pondered thoughtfully, pushing himself to stand and dusting off his backside. "That's an interesting concept. I can bring you ten more just like it. What's so special about that jewel?"

She hesitated in answering, a part of her recognizing that though she owed him a debt for springing her from prison, that didn't mean she had to tell him every personal detail of her life. He already knew more about her than most people she'd encountered, including her real name.

Relieved, she stroked it almost covetously inside her pocket, fingers working over every familiar cut in the stone. She had memorized its features over the years, lying in bed at night running her fingertips across its surface, becoming one with it. He could have put a blindfold on her and put ten emeralds just like in her hand, but she would always know which one was hers. It wasn't enchanted, and she knew it didn't have any real power to keep her light on her feet and one with the shadows, but it felt that way to her. That was all that mattered.

Her silence finally prompted him to shrug and shake his head. "Everyone's entitled to their secrets, _Ginna_." She was beginning to think he just liked saying her name because she hadn't given it to him and he'd learned it anyway. "Come on, let's go."

A/N: At present, I am ten chapters into this story over on my website, where I often post with game screencaps to enhance the story. If you're ever itching to find out what happened next, you can always swing by the site. :)


	4. Chapter 4

Ginna learned relatively quickly that Brynjolf was a talker, maybe even a bit of a braggart, but she wouldn't lie; she liked the sound of his voice.

A travel companion who actually talked was something she wasn't particularly used to, having worked so closely with Brutus most of her life, who'd always preferred brooding silence to conversation, and often glared at her when she would talk while they were walking together. Severus had explained that Brutus believed brooding made him seem more mysterious, but Ginna had always found his disposition unnerving. Growing up together, she already knew all there was to know about him, or at least she'd thought she did. There were a lot of things she thought she knew that she was suddenly beginning to question.

Now she was the silent, brooding, mysterious one, and though she did enjoy listening to his voice, most of what Brynjolf said passed over her head while they walked. It wasn't anything of consequence anyway; nothing personal or revealing, just mindless chatter she could have effectively lived out the rest of her life having not been exposed to had it come from anyone else. But when he started talking about his guild, she actually found herself listening.

"I think you'll fit in down there," he said. "They are good people, a real family."

Ha! Family. She'd had just about enough of family to last her a lifetime.

"Our little Vex will probably take a bit of warming before she comes around. She's never been good with competition, and I hate to say it, but I think you'll give her a fair run for her money. Delvin, on the other hand, will probably fall all over himself trying to get your attention."

"Delvin Mallory?" she turned her head toward him.

"You know old Delvin?"

"Only by name. He wrote a book about the Shadowmarks your guild uses. One of my guild sisters brought it into the house when I was still a girl to compare them to our own marks."

"You mean you're not still a girl?" he jested. "You can't be more than seventeen from the looks of you."

"You got one of those numbers right, but which one, I'll never tell," she winked.

"So you're fifteen, then?"

Her lips twisted into a smirk, which she freely cast in his direction. She'd always been small for one of Nord blood, her Imperial mother likely having had something to do with her size. Her stature gave her an advantage someone Brynjolf's size would never have. Often able to squeeze herself into places few others dared try, her guild family had taken to calling her Ghost because sometimes it seemed as if she simply passed through walls no one else could penetrate.

She wondered if any of them even missed her, if they knew what Brutus had done to her. Would they have even cared?

She'd always felt safe with them; a false illusion, as she knew there was no such thing as safety. But they'd been her brothers, her sisters, her family, and that family hadn't been the same at all since Severus passed. Many of them had moved on from the guild completely, choosing to freelance, rather than pay tribute to a guildmaster they didn't trust or believe in, but those who'd stayed had done so out of support for Brutus. She wasn't in a frame of mind or personal position that allowed the luxury of succumbing to melancholy, even though it was all she could feel. The betrayal of her own brother… Nocturnal! Why hadn't she seen it coming?

"I haven't been fifteen in a very long time," she assured him, pulling back from the painful memories before they could overrun her and drive her into the ground.

"Good to know," he lifted an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth tugging slightly upward. They'd been walking for hours, and she actually felt a little relieved when he finally said, "Looks like a storm's coming. We should make camp," and gestured toward a cave just up ahead.

There was a bear in the cave, which he quickly dispatched with an arrow dipped in poison before leading her into its dark depths, striking a torch and asking her to hold it while he made ready a fire. It wasn't anything like home, but it was somewhat dry, and she soon found herself grateful for that because the sky opened up and poured thunderous volumes of rain down on the road. She lingered close to the fire, warming the damp from her bones and roasting an apple on a stick while he rubbed his hands together briskly to rid himself of chills.

For a time she just watched the light of the fire dance in the long locks of his bright hair, studying him and trying to figure out his story. She'd been right about him being dangerous when she'd danced with him at the Embassy, and yet he'd proven to be somewhat kinder than her own brother in crime. Trusting him was out of the question, and she'd sleep with one eye open as long as they were on the road together.

She'd been plotting and scheming for a way to escape his company since they'd left Solitude. She probably could have easily outrun him if she just took off, but he was right. She really had nowhere else to go at the moment. Brutus knew her better than anyone else; which meant he surely knew that the minute she'd escaped prison she would march back into Cyrodiil and take his head. He'd have taken precautions, setting up guards along the borders to ensure he kept her out as long as possible.

She still didn't understand why this stranger was helping her though. Brynjolf said she'd impressed him at the Embassy, but she really hadn't done much worth noticing. She'd talked and danced, gotten herself pickpocketed before she seduced and drugged a drunken thane of Solitude. She'd flashed her blade and sunk her knuckles into his jaw and then he'd overpowered her. Worst of all, she'd gotten caught. How was any of that impressive?

If things in his guild were really as bad as she suspected, he probably would have been smarter to stay away from her. She was starting to think maybe her luck was just about run dry.

"Why did you really spring me?" she asked, finally breaking the silence.

"I already told you. We could use someone with skills like yours down in the Ratway."

She resisted the urge to point out that he knew nothing of her skills. "The Ratway?" She squinted across the fire at him.

"Aye," he nodded. "It may not sound like much, but it's home."

"Why were you at the Embassy? You have a thing with Maven Black-Briar?"

"Hardly." He chuckled and shook his head. "Maven is the only friend the guild has right now, and when a contact out of Windhelm commissioned that statue you were after, she personally requested I tend to the matter. We didn't know your guild was after the same target, if we had, things might have turned out differently." Keeping up with a game of ask and tell that would more than likely keep them busy all night, he changed the subject back to her. "Is Ginna your real name? Or just another alias?" He didn't look up at her when he spoke, just watched the flames lap thirstily at the air, leaping up just out of reach of his fingers and brilliantly lighting the edges of his hair. It was beautiful, and for a moment she allowed its brilliance to distract her from the discomfort his question brought.

One of the first lessons she'd learned from Severus had been to trust no one, especially with her name, but what else did she have to lose? She was no one now, truly a ghost left to wander through the world, forsaken and alone. "Ginna was the name my father gave me, but my guild family called me Ghost."

"You—you're the Ghost of Cyrodiil?" He lifted his widening gaze across the fire, green eyes shining against the flame. "See! I knew there was something about you the minute I laid eyes on you. I've heard stories about you… They say you once stole a ring right off Titus Mede's finger and sold it to a private dealer in the Summerset Isles for more gold than most thieves will ever see in a hundred lifetimes."

"And yet here I sit a pauper in a tavern wench's rags eating wormy apples."

"Aye," he nodded agreement. "One day you're on top of the world, and then next you're in the gutter. Such is the life of a thief," he lamented.

Only her life hadn't been like that since Septimus took her in. She'd lived lavishly in House Dareloth, resting her head on a feathered pillow as she nestled beneath down comforters. She'd worn the finest clothes, drank the most expensive brandy and there had always been plenty of good food to go around. But more importantly, a day had hardly passed that she hadn't had more coin in her pockets than most honest, hard-working citizens would ever see in a single lifetime.

"I would have thought you'd be older." Brynjolf said, tugging her back to the harsh reality of her life. "That happened more than twelve years ago."

"I told you I hadn't been fifteen for a long time," she grinned.

"I'm not going to lie to you, lass. That turns me on a little."

"What? That I'm not fifteen?"

"That too." He laughed then, a great rumbling sound that rivaled the thunder outside.

Her thoughts drifted back to the Embassy, when he'd had her pinned to the floor, his groin pressed hard against her and she felt her own belly warm and tighten at the memory. It had been more than a year since she'd broken things off with her last beau, singing good riddance to bad rubbish when the guild ran him out of town after he'd ripped them off for the last time. Mallus had taken off with a good chunk of her gold, which he'd been siphoning every chance he got during the three years of their on-again off-again relationship. Last she'd heard he'd run across the border into Skyrim. She didn't miss him, but damn if that man hadn't known how to make her cry out his name in the dark.

"Delvin's going to bust a stone when he hears I've brought the Ghost into The Flagon."

"What's the Flagon?"

"The Ragged Flagon in the Ratway. It's where we kick back and unwind with a warm mug of mead after a long day." He dropped back onto the ground to sit, stretching his long legs out beside the fire and leaning to rest on his elbows. "Gods, I'd cut off my own left hand for a flagon of mead right now."

"Mm," she nodded. She hadn't thought to steal any mead when she'd been rummaging through Katla's cupboards, but now that he'd mentioned it, she wished she had. It would warm her cold and aching bones a bit, maybe even help her sleep. "What about you? Is Brynjolf your real name? Or is it just one of your aliases?"

"It's the name my ma and da gave me. Eight Divines watch over their souls." He was quiet for a time, perhaps thinking about his parents, and then he asked, "Who set you up to take the fall?"

"The Gray Fox," she sighed. "Though he isn't much of a Gray Fox. I think that title finally died out when our mentor passed last year."

"Dare I even ask what in the name of Molag Bal you did to piss him off? And I know it's a lot to ask, but the truth would be nice. I'm taking you home with me and I'd like to know that I can trust you."

Was he crazy? Offering trust so freely… no wonder his guild was in a bad way.

"Our guild father loved me best," she guessed, though her guess was as good as any.

"That's rough, lass," he stifled a yawn into his shoulder and then curled up on the ground next to the fire.

"I'll kill him one day," she said, though more to herself than him.

"And right you should. You never betray your guild family. That's just the way things are."

"I thought so too," she muttered, laying down on the other side of the fire and curling her legs up into her dress.

She was cold and uncomfortable, tired and hungry and her bones ached from the damp. She'd been in a lot of bad places in her life, but she hadn't been in such a bad way since she'd lived with her father almost twenty years earlier. The Nord blood in her veins was supposed to make her resistant to the cold, but her father hadn't been much of a Nord and the Imperial blood of her mother had never done much for her either. The chattering sound of her teeth must have finally gotten to him because Brynjolf sat up and stared across the fire at her.

"You all right, lass?"

"Just cold," she muttered, hugging her arms tight around herself.

He stood and walked around the fire, crouching down and dropping to sit next to her. Lowering a heavy hand to her shoulder, he said, "Here, share my heat."

Lifting her head to look at him, she tilted her gaze to study the shadows in his face. "Nice try."

She was quickly growing fond of his laughter, which echoed through the cave as he scooted down to lie beside her and lowered his arm to draw her closer. "Trust me," he muttered. "Taking my clothes off is the last thing on my mind right now."

Was that a flicker of disappointment she felt? Rolling as he moved her, she spooned her back into his chest and was immediately grateful for the radiating heat from his body to hers. "Well… keep your hands out of my pockets," she said.

He laughed again, the two of them fidgeting and maneuvering until they were both comfortable and then they grew silent. His warmth was like a smelter, and before long she felt almost as cozy as if she were nestled comfortably into her own feathered bed in Cyrodiil, the dripping water at the mouth of their shelter carrying her off to sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

When Ginna woke the cave was dark, save for the low orange glow of coals from the dying fire and the distant daylight streaming through the entrance. She stretched onto her back only to discover she was alone, and as she leaned up to scan the shadows, she quickly reached down into her pocket and then sighed relief. Her jewel was still there, but Brynjolf was nowhere to be found.

She got up slowly and wandered toward the edge of the cave, shielding her eyes against the dull burn of sunlight. She didn't make it very far before she heard soft, clear singing and the splash of water in the stream just downwind from where they'd slept. Following the sound of his song, she listened curiously to the words as he sang.

"I once had a sweetheart, I loved her so well. I loved her far better than my tongue could tell…" Ginna ducked behind a tree as she came to the stream, her gaze lingering over the pale white skin of his broad, freckled back before he dipped below the surface. He came back up singing and slicking his wet hair back with his hands. "Her parents they slight me for my want of gear, so adieu to you Molly, since you are not here."

He swam out deeper into the stream, long legs kicking up out of the water as he dove down and sprang back to the surface to belt out another verse of song. "The people were saying no two e'er were wed, but one had a sorrow that never was said. And I smiled as she passed with her goods and her gear, and that was the last that I saw of my dear…"

Chuckling into her shoulder, she started toward the riverbank and didn't stop until she stood next to his clothes, her mind toying momentarily with the notion of swiping them and taking off. It'd teach him a lesson, that was for sure. He turned over his shoulder and caught a glimpse of her, his face lighting up with a grin. "Don't even think about it. I've not an ounce of shame, lass. I'll chase you all the way to Cyrodiil stark naked and swinging if I have to."

"Who's Molly?"

"Your guess is as good as mine. Come on in." He splashed toward the shore. "Water's fine."

After a week in that cell, she could use a bath to wash the grime and stink from her skin. Without hesitation she bent to draw off her boots and then lifted the hem of her dress, drawing it up over her head and tossing it down by his clothes. Slipping out of her undergarments, she strode toward the water's edge in naught but her skin and dipped her big toe in to test it. Spoiled and used to the bathhouses in Cyrodiil, it was frigid enough for her to draw back with a surprised squeal.

He grinned and splashed her again, cold droplets specking her skin and sending chills rippling over every inch of her skin, and though his brow was raised with interest, his eyes never left her face. "Don't be a milk-drinker. Just dive in."

It felt like ice encased her ankles and calves as she made her way into the water, but the deeper she roamed, the more quickly her body adjusted until she was waist deep and hugging her chest, jaw clenched tight against the will to chatter.

"I thought you were a Nord."

"My father was a Nord," she corrected. "My mother was not."

"There's no excuse for it then. Nord blood runs through your veins. You should be just as at home here as you are anywhere in this gods forsaken country."

She dropped down into the water, hoping full emersion would do the trick, but its frigid depths went straight to her head and she swore every sensitive nerve in her body reacted. "Shor's balls," she shrieked as she came back up, the expression making him laugh as his gaze passed over her hardened nipples.

"I think you're already turning blue. Was your mother an Argonian?" he teased.

"My father said she was an Imperial that looked like an Altmer, but his vision and his memory were all too often impaired by cheap ale. For all I know, she could have been a Khajiit."

"Your life sounds like a broken ballad." He dipped lower into the water, allowing the tips of his hair to float there on the surface. She watched beads of it dripping down his face and glistening in his beard as they caught in the sunlight breaking through the trees. He reached up a wet hand to smooth them away again.

"Maybe one day you'll sing it to me. You would have made a fine bard with a voice like that."

"Bah, there's no coin in song," he said.

"From what I've gathered, there doesn't seem to be much coin in stealing these days either."

"Aye," he nodded. "But it's all I've ever known. I've got good a feeling about you. Maybe you can help me turn my luck around again."

"That's an awful bold assumption." She was starting to adjust to the water, enough that she could wade in a little deeper without the marrow in her bones crying out in protest. "You've seen firsthand that my own luck seems to have run dry. What makes you think I'd bring you any?"

"It's just a feeling. I don't know, maybe we can help each other back onto our feet again, but we'll have to trust each other."

"I put my trust no one."

"You trusted me enough to sleep with me last night," he pointed out. "And I did right by you. Didn't even try to slip my hand into your pocket or your between your thighs. By the by, has anyone ever told you that you snore?"

"I do not snore," she laughed, gliding her hand across the water and spraying it out to meet him.

He reached for her wrist as he ducked out of the line of fire, slippery fingers tightening gently around it as he drew her across the water to stand in front of him. A bold move for a near stranger, but then she had walked into the water in naught but her skin. It was practically an open invitation.

"At first I thought it was a bear," he quirked an eyebrow, a devilish grin drawing at the corner of his mouth as his other hand sliced through the water to rest on her immersed hip. "It was terrifying."

"And just where do you think your hands are roving right now?" She looked up into his eyes, which gleamed with unspoken mischief and flirtation.

"Don't tell me you don't feel it, lass." He took a step closer, bare skin touching skin beneath the water, and she immediately knew what he was talking about. That familiar warmth and tingle sparked in her belly as his gentle hand slid around her waist and dipped in to rest on her bare tailbone, drawing her body even closer to his. "I felt it the minute I saw you at the Embassy and it only grew stronger when we danced together."

"You mean when I had my blade to your throat?" She lifted her brow.

"Then too." He drew his lower lip between his teeth, tilting his head to look at her. "Every time I close my eyes, I imagine the things someone like you and someone like me could do together. Cons and shills, heists and rackets. Wreaking havoc and bedlam in every hold of Skyrim, the entire world at our disposal, our pockets brimming with more coin than we can count. Just thinking about it stokes a fire in my groin."

Those words were foreplay.

She couldn't deny that those same thrills ignited her own desires, but it had always been a solo yearning, something she'd never imagined sharing with another who knew her passions. Mallus had been a snake, a con-artist and in his own way a thief, but he'd never had any interest in working alongside her. He'd preferred to lay back and let her do all the dirty work while he got rich on her efforts. But the thought of working side by side with someone in that capacity, the thrill of untold riches and success driving them into a frenzy of passion as they rolled around naked in their spoils was so hot she actually thought she felt the water temperature change.

"Being bad is always better with someone else," he upped the ante with that admission. Beneath the water his tickling fingers slipped over her belly, delving lower until she closed her eyes and muttered no more than a sigh as he explored her. "What do you say, lass?" Lowering his face against hers, he whispered, "Be bad with me?"

"Show me how bad you can be," she challenged, but the words had barely left her lips before he stole them, his mouth coming down hard on hers in an aggressive assault on her senses that actually made her knees feel weak.

He remedied that weakness quickly, catching her before she could go down, fast hands gripping the backs of her thighs, sinking fingers pressed hard into her flesh when he hiked her against his waist as if she weighed little more than a thread. It took a bit of maneuvering, but he moved fast, his hunger furious as he raised himself into her until she gasped and wrapped her legs tight around him to gain leverage, squeezing, lifting and lowering to meet his every upward thrust.

He was an intense lover, rough and demanding—as if he'd known her before and knew exactly what she liked. It was bliss like nothing she'd ever felt before. A lover who wasn't afraid to give back everything she gave; just the way she wanted it. She nipped at his shoulder with her teeth and he bit back. They pinched and squeezed, bruising and pushing as they stretched and writhed together like animals. Brynjolf nearly lost his footing on the slippery rocks beneath them several times, but always managed to keep them right and steady when it mattered.

"Come on," he growled against her neck. "Tell me you don't feel that!" Suckling lips followed the tantalizing bristle of his beard against her skin as he passed across her mouth, muttering, "I dare you."

She felt it; though she didn't exactly know what was feeling. Power, maybe; the epic colliding of two worlds. If they'd been anywhere but in the water, they would have taken down walls and shattered everything in their path with the endless rage and fury of their mutual lust. It was like their skirmish at the Embassy, but without blades, and it could have gone on forever that way if they let it.

She scaled the heights of pleasure rising inside her, and only after he brought her to shuddering climax, her cries echoing through the quiet woods, did he stiffen and release himself, squeezing her tiny body so tight against his, she thought she might break in his arms. Shaking off the chills that danced along his pale, freckled skin, he shivered and loosened his grip on her, but he didn't put her down. He sought out her lips again, finishing her off with a slow kiss that made her entire body tremble.

"Our bodies fit nicely together." He lowered his forehead to hers, nuzzling the tip of his nose into her cheek. "Imagine the things we could do if we put our heads together."

There was no denying that. Their bodies did fit nicely together. She wanted to imagine those things he spoke of, and she wanted to trust him, but trust was not something she'd ever offered easily. Now that she'd felt the cold hard steel of betrayal from someone close to her, she had no intention of ever trusting again. But she did need to get back on her feet, pull together enough wealth and resource for a stealthy reentrance into Cyrodiil to exact her revenge when the time was right.

"Maybe we could help each other," she decided tentatively. She'd keep a close eye on her back in the meanwhile, and if she could satiate some pent up sexual frustration at the same time, it'd be more than she'd get out on her own.

She disentangled herself from his arms and dropped into the water once more, swimming toward the shore to find her clothes. The heat they'd shared melted away from her body as she rose up into the air, shivering as she dropped down to grab her dress and draw it over her wet form. The fabric grew damp and clung to her in places, but at least she felt a little cleaner.

He waded through behind her and joined her on the pebbled shore, tugging into his breeches while she sat down to slip into her boots. She watched him dress from the corner of her eye, his perfect backside disappearing into the worn black leather of his pants. He turned to face her as he buckled them just below the thin strip of bright red hair trailing down his belly. The damp strands of his hair hung loose around his shoulders, occasional droplets of water slipping down his chest before plunking to the ground at his bare feet.

"So, I've got a bit of a scheme I'm cooking up over here," he announced. "A way to get us back to Riften in style. Maybe get you something warmer and more comfortable to wear than that old thing."

"I'm listening." She drew her knees up under her dress and circled her arms around them, hugging herself as she lifted her gaze to meet with his.

"Markarth is teeming with untapped wealth," he went on. "Between the Dwemer ruins and the silver mines, it's simply begging for a hit. With the Stormcloaks running the show over there these days, you've got packs of randy soldiers who haven't seen their wives and husbands in months. They're practically screaming for the courage to step across a line they've all been toeing since that bloody war started."

"Okay…"

"And that's where we come in with vials of mystical Falmer Blood Elixir."

"Falmer Blood Elixir?"

"Aye," his face lit up as he painted it out for her. "Make love like a saber cat and crush your enemies like a giant. The things this stuff'll do for you are absolutely endless, and for a fair price of just fifty septims, how could you possibly turn down the chance to explore your inner-potential in ways you've never done before."

She actually grinned, his enthusiasm sparking a fire in her she hadn't felt longer than she'd even realized. "All right, and where do we get Falmer blood?"

"Not actual Falmer blood. I take down a deer on the side of the road with my bow and drain its blood into a bucket. We mix it with just enough Alto wine and moon sugar to make it potent, and voila. Instant enhancement." The excitement in his eyes was more than intriguing. "It's a two-fold operation. While I work the crowd, taking in their hard-earned coin, you pick their pockets and we're on our way to Riften."

"You're forgetting a few important things," she started. "For one, we don't have any Alto wine, and I don't know about you, but I've never touched moon sugar or Skooma in my life. And how do we bottle it? Packaging is everything."

"We're just a few miles from Dragon Bridge. We sell our loot from the farm and pick up the supplies we need there."

"And the moon sugar?"

"That could be a bit of a problem," he agreed. "There's bound to be a caravan between here and Markarth. Let's just hope we happen upon it."

"And if we don't?"

"I'll think of something, lass. Trust me." He tugged into his shirt, untucking his hair from the collar before lowering his eyes back to hers. He was asking a lot when he'd said those last two words. More than she could give to a stranger, even one she'd just engaged in incredible sex with. "So, what do you say? You game?"

She had nothing else going on, and a few days on the road would definitely give them time to get even more intimately acquainted. She certainly wouldn't mind that. It would get her back into the thick of things and draw her mind off of her troubles. And if his little scam worked, maybe, just maybe, it would restore a little of her faith in Nocturnal, who she was really starting to think had turned her back on them all.

"All right," she decided. "I'm in."

"A woman after my own heart." Grinning, he held his hand down to her and drew her to her feet. "I knew you couldn't resist."


	6. Chapter 6

They found a shady dealer in Dragon Bridge who bought their stolen goods for about half what they were actually worth, and then he sold them a dozen empty apothecary bottles for twice what they would have paid a legitimate shopkeeper. But there were no legitimate shopkeepers in that little outpost, only Penitus Oculatus agents and a booming lumber mill. So they made do with what they had, walking away with twelve septims between them and a satchel of empty bottles.

Ginna did manage to swipe a few bottles of mead on their way out of Dragon Bridge, which the two of them shared that night when they made camp in a quiet cave nestled in the mountains, that smelled as if it had once been home to trolls, but it had been a long time since whatever once dwelt there had returned. Brynjolf explained that the territory they walked through was treacherous, and would only grow more dangerous the closer they grew to Markarth. The Forsworn, an almost primitive guerilla warfare group made travel through those parts a nightmare, and that nightmare had only grown more violent in the face of Civil War.

"You'd think with all the chaos of war, this land would be ripe for people like us."

"You would think," he shook his head. "But it hasn't been easy these last few years. I've watched my guild plummet into the depths of despair, and try as we might to hold it all together, it's as if there's not a damn thing we can do about it. "

"It isn't just your guild," she said. "I've heard rumors. It's happening all over Tamriel. High Rock, The Summerset Isles, Hammerfell… The guilds are failing, losing their power and grip."

"Delvin says it's a curse, but I've never been one to believe in curses. We make our own luck."

"Do we?" Severus had taught her differently, that Nocturnal decided their luck on a whim, and there was no telling from day to day which way her shadowed winds would blow. Foul or favor, he'd called it for _Lady Luck_ commanded no tribute or alms, and there was rarely rhyme or reason to her gifts and begrudgings. "I think Nocturnal would disagree."

"I've been at this game a long time, lass. Skill dictates luck."

"Maybe," she shrugged, reaching across the space between them to swipe the bottle back. After several heavy gulps she returned it to him, wiping the back of her hand across her mouth. "Or maybe not. I've been at this game for almost twenty years, and I've never seen anything like what's happening now. Guild families turning on each other, coffers drying up, thieves barely able to steal a crust of bread. Maybe Nocturnal's had enough of us, and she's punishing us for some reason."

"Bah," he waved her off, swigging from the bottle before lowering it, gesturing with it as he spoke. "Cursed or not, I'm turning my luck around. With or without Nocturnal's help."

It seemed a bad idea to speak of Nocturnal that way, even if he was right and the Mistress of Shadows could care less about their luck and dealings. "I would rather have her on my side, than against me."

He lifted the bottle. "I'll drink to that." He took another quick drink, liquid sloshing against glass as he tilted it to his lips and then dropping when he brought it down again and handed it over to her. "You've really been doing this for twenty years?"

"Yes." She held the bottle for a long time, thoughtful as she held it midway to her lips. "I was eight years old when the Gray Fox took me in off the streets, but I'd been dipping my hands into other people's pockets long before we formally met." It was more than she had wanted to say, but once she'd opened her mouth the words just poured out, almost as if against her will. Maybe it was the mead, dangerously loosening her tongue.

"Both my parents were in the Guild," he told her. "I was practically raised in the Cistern. My father taught me to fish when I was barely old enough to walk and my ma… it was like she could walk through walls. There wasn't a lock she couldn't pick. They disappeared when I was six-years-old. A fisherman dredged their bodies in his nets out on Lake Honrich a few weeks after they went missing."

Ginna felt chills roll up the length of her arms, and shuddering she hugged herself tighter, hands briskly moving along her skin to make the feeling go away. But it wasn't a cold that was easily brushed off; it went deeper than the skin, into the soul.

"The Guildmaster, Gallus, took care of me for a time, but it wasn't long before he went missing too, less than a year. That was bad times." He reached for an unopened bottle of mead and snapped the cork off with a loud thunk that echoed through their cozy little cavern. "Dark times. The Guild was never the same after that."

She pressed her back into the stone behind her and stared at the fire. From the corner of her eye, she watched him just hold the bottle without drinking, his own gaze resting on the flames, eyes following them as they danced and leapt. "Did you ever find out what happened to them?"

"Aye… Stabbed in the back by someone in the family."

It was a pain she found all too familiar now; only she was lucky to still be alive. Was that why he'd helped her? He had come to her knowing she'd obviously been set up, fished around her situation for the reason, felt sorry for her. In their line of work, people got set up all the time, but rarely by a fellow guild member unless they'd done something unforgiveable.

"She slipped into the shadows without a trace after she murdered Gallus in cold blood, but I still remember her face, her soft eyes. She'd always been so kind to me… Would bring me sweeties and sing me songs when I was restless in my bed. She had the gentlest voice you'd ever hear. It never made a damn lick of sense." He scraped his boot across the gravelly floor, tucking his heels under his knees and leaning forward as he gulped down several soothing swallows of mead. "I would have wound up in Honorhall if it hadn't been for Mercer Frey."

"I'm sorry," she said, not even knowing why she'd said it. She'd always hated the way people fell back on meaningless apology whenever they didn't know what else to say, but his story really had made her feel sad.

"Orphans," he shrugged his shoulders up. "The whole bleeding lot of us."

"Aye," she nodded.

He held his bottle up to her again, "To orphans."

Clanking the mouth of her bottle against his, she agreed. "To orphans."

Finishing the last few swallows, she leaned back into the wall again and drew her arms up around herself. Even despite the mead and fire, she was shivering cold again, her jaw clenching tight against her teeth as they started to chatter. Without a word he crawled across the ground and sat beside her, sliding his arm in behind her and drawing her close to share his heat. She leaned into him, disconcerted by how comfortable it felt cuddling up to him, how good it had felt in the water when he'd been inside her.

Sex had always been little more than a necessary release, two bodies, a few good feelings and then sleeping alone. Mallus had never spent the night, preferring his space, and she'd always been glad when he left, a part of her worried she might actually slit his throat while he slept if he dared make himself vulnerable enough in front of her.

Brynjolf's arm around her felt heavy and strong and… safe. She nestled perfectly into him, his fingers curved around her arm, sliding up and down her sleeve to warm the chills from her flesh as he muttered, "You'll get used to it, lass."

To being vulnerable? To feeling like her entire world, which she'd always kept very carefully in check, was spinning out of control and there was nothing she could do about it?

Her hand slid across his chest as she curled closer, dipping lower to pass along the taut surface of his belly until she found her fingers fondling the buckles that held his pants in place. She wanted to lose herself in the near-violent thrash of his body as they tangled together, to dominate him to her will and then succumb to his every whim. As she worked at the buckles, she lifted her lips to his neck, tongue darting out, tickling and teasing her way up to his ear, which she drew between her teeth and nibbled until he released a soft, groaning sigh.

He turned his head down, mouth seeking out hers in a gentle kiss as his hand rested atop hers, fingers squeezing as he muttered against her lips, "Not tonight, lass."

But he went on kissing her anyway, slow, sensual tasting, fingers stroking her skin almost affectionately, until despite her confused senses she lowered her head to his chest and just closed her eyes.

They fell asleep that way, backs to the wall, his arm around her, head rested against hers, hand still squeezing her fingers in his lap.

a/n: this story is complete over on my website (which is listed on my profile,) so if you're itching to find out what happens next, drop by the site. I tend to post a little more slowly over here because I don't always have access to from my work computer.


	7. Chapter 7

They ran into the Khajiit caravan just north of Karthwasten two days later, but with so few septims to spare, buying moon sugar for Brynjolf's scheme was out of the question. Several times as they approached the caravan, which had set up camp for the night, Ginna felt her hand slipping into her pocket, her emerald nestled in her palm and then she'd drop it into the depths again and tell herself selling it was out of the question. Brynjolf didn't even bring it up, but without coin to buy the supplies they needed, it didn't look like their plan would come into fruition. Every time she glanced up at him, she could see the wheels in his mind turning, brain scheming for a way to make it work, to find the coin they needed to follow through.

"It approaches us as if it knows us." Their leader sat on an expensive embroidered rug at the mouth of a lavish tent filled wares, his striped tale flickering in to curl around his crossed legs, long black hair wavering in the wind as it shifted.

"We've met before Ri'saad," Brynjolf reminded the cat, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Ri'saad never forgets a face," he assured him, mimicking Brynjolf's standoffish gesture. "This one also does not deal with thieves so empty in their many pockets. Go away, boy from Riften, before Khajiit shows you his claws. We have no business today."

Glancing sidelong at her companion, Ginna could see a flush of unspoken anger rising to color Brynjolf's cheekbones as he gritted his teeth tight together. "Come on, Ri'saad. I'm working a major job, the promise of plenty of gold when it's done, which I will gladly spread around once it's in my pockets. I just need a bit of moon sugar on credit. You know I'm good for it."

"Credit?" Ri'saad tsked and laughed, a wheezing hiss that almost sounded like he had a furball caught in his throat and he needed to cough it up. "Ri'saad does not extend credit, Riften boy. Ri'saad is not a fool."

Her hand was in her pocket again, her heart in her throat as she drew out the emerald, still clenched in her palm. Twenty years, she'd had it, and she only needed to close her eyes for a second to call to mind the face of the Altmer she'd stolen it from. As a girl she used to dream of him, wide golden eyes looking down on her with scornful intrigue when she approached him in the street to show him what she'd stolen from his pockets. In the dream he'd felt uncommonly sorry for her, long gold fingers curling around hers as he closed that jewel in her hand and told her to keep it. "You need it more than I do," the dream soldier told her.

But now Brynjolf needed it; and she _did_ owe him for springing her. Ugh… why couldn't the warmth and comfort of her naked body under his be enough of a payment for her to not feel obligated to part with her most prized possession… her only possession, as it stood. Her good luck charm. She'd tried to tell herself that Brynjolf's stealing that emerald at the Embassy had broken her lucky streak, but she knew she was fooling herself. Maybe he was right after all; they had to make their own luck.

Her jaw clenched tight against the act she was about to perform, a selfless deed that most other people would have felt good about committing themselves to had the circumstances been just a little different. Not Ginna… it made her feel sick and depressed as she opened her hand and held it out to Ri'saad so he could see what she offered. "What will you give me for this?"

"Let us see it," he reached out to take it, holding the emerald up to the light and inspecting its flawless beauty. "Trade or gold?"

"Trade," she said, ignoring Brynjolf's furrowed brow beside her.

"What does this pretty one want from Ri'saad?"

"Two sets of fine clothes and as much moon sugar as he requires," she gestured to her companion beside her.

"And how much does the foolish one who makes Khajiit laugh require? Ri'saad has his limits, even when it comes to pretty ladies and their pretty jewels."

"Nine ounces should do the trick."

Ri'saad rose from where he stood, slipping her precious emerald into the pocket of his tunic and turning his arm toward the tent. "Step inside and we will deal."

Brynjolf reached out a hand to grab for hers, holding her back for a moment. "What are you doing, Ginna?"

"What needs to be done," she sighed, avoiding his gaze for fear he'd see how much it was killing her inside to part with it.

"Are you sure about this, lass? I know how much it means to you…"

Sure? Of course she wasn't sure. It was more than she'd ever done for anyone in her life, and for what? The potential of a minor payoff that would carry them to Riften more quickly, a place she'd heard nothing but awful things about all her life. She'd never been less sure about anything.

"Right now I'd do just about anything to get out of these clothes."

"All you had to do was ask, and I'd have gladly helped you out of them." He grinned, his eyes lighting up with playful mischief. He'd given her a good run that morning when he woke, sneaking hands sliding up the long hem of her dress and slipping between her thighs until he'd worked her up enough that she had no choice but to answer with eager, hungry kisses. Not that she'd minded answering that call. She kind of liked waking up in such a compromising position, all flustered and excited and with no place to go but down.

"We'll help each other out of our new clothes later." She turned into the tent, leaving him grinning on the carpet outside.

Ri'saad hadn't wanted their old clothes, so Brynjolf bundled them into his pack after stepping back to admire her in the soft bronze and gold dressing gown with a fox-pelt cloak that made her look and feel like a rich merchant's wife. He didn't look half bad himself in a quilted navy blue doublet, the white shirt beneath cuffed in gold threading. They'd stepped into that tent two poor thieves in little more than rags, but walked out completely different people, confident, strong, ready to take the world by storm.

Even Ri'saad was impressed with the transformation, commenting, "Now here are two I would gladly do business with. You should clean yourself up more often, Riften boy."

"Hang onto the lady's emerald, Ri'saad," Brynjolf said, slinging his pack over his shoulder. "I'll be buying it back the next time we meet."

"Ri'saad makes no promises," the Khajiit grinned, his pointed teeth dangerously menacing as they walked away from the caravan. "May your road lead you to warm sands."

It was less than half a day's walk to Markarth from Karthwasten, but they stopped and made camp in a cave just outside the city to prepare their elixir. They worked late into the night, mixing, bottling, exchanging glances. It had to be after three a.m. before they finished bottling the last of it and packed the entire batch into the satchel, stepping back to stand beside each other admiring their work.

"That's a lot of coin right there, lass. Enough to buy your jewel back from the caravan, get us to Riften by carriage and then some."

"_If_ this little scheme of yours works…"

"Oh, it'll work," he assured her. "Who doesn't want to make love like a saber cat?"

"Is that where you learned your techniques?" She turned into him, hands lifting to grip the soft fabric of his doublet to draw him closer. "From saber cats?"

Grinning, he raised an eyebrow and stalked her back two steps. He started out slow, fingers carefully working along the ties of her pretty new gown. She wanted him to tear it away, but there would be time for much rougher play when the clothes they wore weren't important to the task that awaited them come morning. His gentleness was quickly lost, however, when he threw her up against the hard stone wall. She cried out in pain as her spine connected with rock, but it was a pain he soon remedied with exquisite pleasure.

Rough hands kneaded the supple flesh of her breasts as he devoured her kiss, mouth traveling down her chin, into the stretched curve of her neck, lips suckling as he crouched lower and nudged her thighs apart before trailing in exploration down the taut muscle of her belly, over her hip and then diving into her warmth. Ginna's hand tangled into his hair, pulling the strands, holding him in place as he teased and tasted until her rising whimpers told of ultimate release. When he lifted his body into hers, it was with a dominant charge that made her cry out in ecstasy.

He lifted her legs around his hips and drove through her like a storm driving across the land. Crushing, slamming, the thunder of their breath sweet music to her ears. She swore every muscle in her body bruised under the fury of his passion, but it was pure, unadulterated bliss and she wouldn't want it any other way. He knew just went to slow down and draw things out, making her murmur pleas for more, harder, yes, harder.

She really did feel something when their bodies were tangled together in that way, something different than she'd ever felt with anyone before. In the low glow of fire and torchlight, he stared into her and she couldn't look away. Didn't want to. Power, the potential for things far greater than she'd ever envisioned in her vast, devious scope—it all lay inside this man waiting to be rediscovered and claimed. The entire world at their disposal, pockets brimming with more coin than they could count. Those thoughts made her shudder, the force of her release surely alerting every Forsworn in The Reach to their location, and when she closed her eyes, head dropping back to rest on the wall behind her, Brynjolf brought a hand up to her chin, drawing her gaze back down to meet his. He wasn't finished, and he wanted her with him when he rose to his peak and brought her raging back down with him again.

Ginna had never felt her heart race so furiously in her life. He relaxed his body against hers, his grip slackening as it slid down her neck and he turned his mouth into hers. "Now that's how a saber cat makes love," he growled playfully, nipping at her lower lip with his teeth before kissing her again.

"I always thought they did it from behind," she braced his shoulders in her hands, allowing her legs to slide down the length of his as she dropped back to the ground.

Quirking his eyebrow, the grin never left his face as he drew back, promising, "Stick with me, and I'll show you every trick I know, lass."


	8. Chapter 8

Come morning, they rose refreshed and ready to take Markarth by storm. Heavy rainclouds lingered on the horizon as they walked to Markarth, but the sun pushed through them before they reached the gates, restoring Ginna's fleeting trust in Nocturnal for the moment. It looked as though it could shape up to be a profitable day, and when they pushed through the gates of Markarth, it was with confidence and swagger—as if they actually belonged there.

The guards watched with suspicion as Brynjolf set his stand up just inside the gates at an empty cart, Ginna lingering close to lend strength to their proposed identities. According to their well-rehearsed story, which they immediately put to the test on a friendly Redguard jeweler named Kerah, they were a married couple from Hjaalmarch, Molly and Muirin, whose marriage was as fiery as the day they'd taken vows before Mara seven years earlier, thanks to the mystical power of Falmer Blood.

"Between our daughter and our work, there just seems to be so very little time to… enjoy each other the way we did when we were first married," Kerah lamented.

"It doesn't have to be that way," Brynjolf assured her. "In fact, it shouldn't be that way at all. Our lives are so short, wouldn't you agree? Our nights should not be spent catching up on lost sleep, but enjoying every aspect of our cherished loved ones."

"Now, when you say Falmer, you mean the legendary Snow Elves?"

"But of course, my lady. Their blood is one of the most powerful elixirs known to man," he explained.

"But how well does this elixir work? My husband… he's always tired."

Directing her to his beautiful and very satisfied wife, Molly, Ginna stepped into character perfectly. Leaning into Kerah as if they were old friends sharing gossip, she told her, "My love used to come home so weary from his travels and fall straight into bed without even saying hello. Now we hardly sleep at all, if you know what I mean, and we're expecting our second child." She nudged her with an elbow as she grinned affectionately across the counter at Brynjolf, who reached out to lay his hand atop hers to drive it home.

"You've really been married seven years? Your love still seems so new. You've definitely convinced me. I'll take a bottle," Kerah said eagerly, drawing out her coin purse. "On second thought, maybe I'll take two."

By the time early afternoon rolled around, a curious crowd had drawn in to listen to him boast bold promises and a full money-back guarantee. There were always doubters among the fray, but the doubters stirred up the crowd and made it easier for Ginna to slip in among them, fingers dropping into pockets, ears tuned into the sound of their conversation. That was how she'd learned about the empty house for sale from the Jarl's steward, who lingered near their stall longer than anyone else, hemming and hawing over the price on the last available bottle of elixir.

"It's well-worth the price, sir," she assured him, leaning close enough to slide her hand into his pocket unnoticed. Curling her finger around his keys, she drew them out just as he stepped forward to finish the deal.

Her inner-pockets were teeming with so much coin and jewelry, it was almost impossible to walk without jingling, but she'd learned long ago how to stay light on her feet to avoid giving away the contents of her heavy pockets. While Brynjolf packed up their empty stand, she stood in front of the cart looking out over the city of Markarth with her arms crossed. The air was heavy with soot, and she could feel it coating her lungs each time she breathed in, but sleeping in the city would be better than sleeping in a cave again, or in the back of some cart as Brynjolf had planned. She missed the comforts of home far too much, and even just one night in one of the most lavish homes in filthy Markarth would be better than sleeping in some old troll den.

"How long do you think you're going to be?" she asked, leaning back over the cart.

"A few more minutes, lass. You in a hurry?"

"No, I want to go check something out. Wait for me?"

He glanced up at her from where he knelt, a suspicious gleam in his bright green eyes. "You're not planning on making off with those heavy pockets and leaving me behind, are you?"

Rolling her eyes, she shook her head and sighed. Besides, he was the one with all the money. "After everything we've been through…"

"All right," he nodded. "I trust you."

As she walked away from the stand, heading up the winding steps, she tried not to think about how easily he trusted her. He was a damn good thief and an even better con-artist—one of the best she'd ever worked with. How had he gotten as far as he had offering his trust without question? He knew nothing about her, save for what he'd learned between her thighs, and though she had no intention of leaving him high and dry after the things he'd done for her over the last week, she knew as she slid up the shadowed line of the stairwell to Vlindrel Hall, she could have walked away from him and he'd have had no one to blame but himself.

Vlindrel Hall was perched high above the city, overlooking the merchant district and main gates on the left and glimpsing Understone Keep. Crouching down low, she couldn't see beyond the top stair, and though she knew that didn't mean that made her invisible to the guards, it was a chance she had to take. She slid the key into the lock and turned the door open, stepping up into the hall and closing the door behind her.

It was a beautiful house, fully furnished and complete with alchemy and enchanting labs, a kitchen and dining area. There was a wide, open sitting area just beyond the open master bedroom with the biggest, most comfortable bed she'd seen since leaving Cyrodiil. Stalking quietly into the bedroom, she climbed up to stand on the bed, bouncing a few times before dropping into its comfort with a stifled giggle.

It was quietly tucked away from the other houses and it was perfect, even if it was only for one night.

Sneaking back out and down the stairs, she raced down into the merchant circle just as Brynjolf was slinging his pack over his shoulder.

"I think we should stay here tonight," she sidled up to him and slinked her arm through his.

"I don't know, lass. We did well today, but dropping ten septims on a room at the inn seems a little steep." She could tell he didn't want to disappoint her, his brow furrowing with the decision. "Especially considering we won't be able to get rid of what you've got in your pockets until we're well away from this city."

"Come with me," she turned, drawing his arm back in the direction she'd come from.

"I want to catch the carriage before he's off again and we have to wait until morning for the next one. It's a long way to Riften from here. We can sleep on the road."

"I want to stay here tonight," she asserted.

"Well, I'm sorry, but you're not always going to get your way." It just went to show how far they were from really getting to know each other. Ginna always got her way, and it was high time he learned that about her. "We can't afford to stay here tonight," he said in a low voice so no one would hear their argument.

"Yes," she drew back to look at him. "We can. Just come with me, all right?" The corner of his mouth had tightened into a scowl that didn't soften even when she started drawing him toward the stairs.

She waited for the guards to shift again before drawing him into the shadow of the building and skulking undetected up the stairs. Brynjolf crouched at her back as she took out the key and slid it into the lock.

"What in the name of the Eight Divines are you doing?"

"It's not trespassing if you have the key," she winked over her shoulder at him. The lock clicked open and she pushed inside, turning in the entryway and gesturing for him to follow. "Come on. No one's here."

"No one's here now, but when the people who live here come home… You're starkers, if you think we can stay here."

"No one lives here," she grabbed for his hand and tugged him through the entrance, but not without a struggle. Once inside, she leaned out and looked down on the empty street below and then she closed and locked the door at his back. "They've been looking for a buyer since before the war started," she drew out to look at him. "It's not like someone's going to decide they're moving in between now and morning. We make ourselves comfortable here for a few hours, catch some sleep and walk out before dawn to catch the carriage to Riften. No one will ever know we were here."

Stepping up to him, he towered over her the way the great city of Markarth towered over the people in its streets, his eyes raging, dominant and in control of the situation. They didn't soften when she lifted her grip to his shoulders and smiled as she circled her arms around his neck. "Being bad is always better with someone else," she turned his own words back on him as she leaned up onto the tips of her toes to reach his ear. The soft strands of his hair tickled her cheek as she nudged into him, whispering, "What do you say? Be bad with me?"

"All right." The challenge actually made him grin, a slow warming smile that quickly reached his eyes. Hands reaching down to unbutton his doublet as he started walking her backward through the hallway that led up into the dining room, he asked, "You want to play house then, do you?"

"I do," she purred, hands dropping down over his to help him with his task.


	9. Chapter 9

Clothes, coin and trinkets littered the stone floor all the way to the massive bedroom, where she drove him back onto the bed and climbed atop him. He stared up at her with intrigue as she shifted the balance of power for the first time since they'd met, gripping his wrists in her tiny hands and stretching his arms above him as she lowered down to nibble on his waiting lips. He jerked at her grip as if to bring his arms around her and roll her onto her back, but she pushed them back down with enough force to make him gasp against her eager kisses.

"No," she whispered, tracing the tip of her tongue along his lower lip before nipping at it.

"Yes." Tugging upward again and rising into her, she forced him back down to the bed once more.

"I'll tie you down if I have to."

He rose once more, as if challenging her to hold good on that promise, and she climbed down off the bed, leaving him alone there in its center for a moment. "Where do you think you're going?" he called to her back as she left the room. His voice echoing through the quiet, empty hall. "Get back here."

She'd seen them sitting on the edge of the table near the hearth when she'd scoped out the house, leather strips for smithing… and binding. Grinning to herself, she swiped them up and pattered back through the house with a devious excitement burning in her belly.

Brynjolf had fallen into the bed with a hopeless sigh while she was gone and lifted to look at her as she came back in, his eyebrows rising up with interest when he saw what she held in her hands. She stood in the doorway a moment, slapping the strips against her palm before she stalked toward him with a purpose.

"And just what do you think you're going to do with those?"

She said nothing, but reached for his hand and drew it toward the headboard. He didn't stop her, but lay perfectly still while, head stretched up to watch as she secured his wrists to the bed and then stepped back to admire both his perfect form and her handiwork. She could have stood there all night just staring at him, watching his chest rise, eyes flickering with lust and longing.

"You've snared me, lass." He jerked at his wrists to show her how well she'd secured them. "Now what?"

"Whatever I want," she said, kneeing up onto the bed and lifting her leg to straddle his chest.

"Mm," he murmured as she descended to taste his lips. "I like the sound of that."

"Good." She shimmied her hips down lower, until she could feel his eagerness rising against her.

With him at her whim, she teased him endlessly, layering soft kisses along the sensitive skin of his side, the tight muscles of his belly, tickling, taunting and watching his excitement rise. Several times she lifted her gaze to watch his face, his eyes closed, mouth drawn tight as he breathed in hard through his nose, chest expanding when he held that breath in. She could have done anything to him, anything at all and he'd have been powerless to stop her.

"I could hurt you," she murmured softly, trailing her lips and tongue up over his chest, darting across his nipple before drifting higher to nip along his collarbone.

"But you won't."

"How do you know?" She slid her hips down once more, wriggling closer to entice him but then pulling back before giving him what he craved.

"I just know."

"What if you're wrong?" He was so close to driving himself home she thought he was actually trembling in anticipation, and she wanted him, wanted to feel him rise up inside her, but she was enjoying the game far too much to stop playing just yet. She drew away again, and he gasped in protest, unbound legs jerking up to push her back into place.

"I'm never wrong."

Ginna drew out her game so long, it was probably worse than torture for him, proving him wrong even though he'd never admit it. By the time she laid claim to what was hers, he was panting with need and she rewarded his patience and fortitude with long kisses as she rode the waves of endless pleasure with him until they were both completely spent.

Collapsing atop him, he tugged at his binds and she lifted her head to grin down at him. "Would you like me to set you free?"

"No." He stared into her eyes with unspoken intensity that cut through to her soul. "Just untie my hands."

She obliged, reaching up to loosen the binds enough that he could slip his hands out. He immediately reached up to rub feeling back into his wrists as she rolled onto her back beside him and drew up her legs. "Did you count out our take from the market this afternoon?"

"Six hundred and fifty septims," he said. "Minus the forty it'll take to hire the carriage, that leaves us with six-ten, plus whatever you've got in your pockets out there."

"Not much gold, maybe twenty septims," she lamented. "A few jewels and rings. A nice gold jeweled necklace that'll fetch a decent price if sold to the right dealer."

"Either way, it's more than enough to get us where we need to go." He moved onto his side, propping up in the bed to look down on her. "And you didn't think we could pull it off."

"I did have my doubts. Nocturnal must have been watching over us."

"Maybe." He lowered to brush his lips to hers, the length of his hair falling across her cheek like a soft curtain. "Or maybe we're really just that good together."

"Maybe." She kissed him again and then reached up to tuck his hair back behind his ear. "Did you see the size of this place? I wonder how much they're asking for it. It's so small compared to House Dareloth, but I always wanted a big house all my own."

"Easy now." He laughed and dropped back into the pillows behind them. "Don't go getting ahead of yourself, lass. Six-hundred and ten septims and a few pretty rocks isn't enough to put a roof over your head. It's not even a start."

"No, but someday I will have enough," she sighed then and sat up to rest on the edge of the bed, her back to him.

"What do you need a house for?" Leaning in behind her, he circled his arms around her hips and tried to pull her back into bed with him. "As long as you've got a dry place to sleep, I say save your coin."

"What's the point in having coin if I don't use it to buy the things I want?"

"If you walk around spending all your money, you won't have anything to fall back on when hard times hit. And we're on hard times, there's no doubt about it. Besides, you're like to draw unwanted attention to yourself if you go flashing your wealth around."

"Well, that isn't how things are done where I come from." She tugged free from his arms, stood up and walked toward the wardrobe in the corner of the room. Opening the doors to peer inside at the empty cupboards, she glanced over her shoulder at him. "Where I come from, showing off our wealth keeps the people in line. It's a demonstration of our power."

"Or an invitation for a backstabbing," he muttered.

Ignoring that remark, she closed the wardrobe and slipped out into the sitting room, wandering through the house and taking it all in while he lay abed. It was a beautiful house, perched high enough above the city to offer privacy and the thick stone walls shut out the noise from outside. It was the kind of house she used to fantasize about when she was a little girl, before Severus took her away from her father's bungalow and put her up in the lavish House Dareloth. She'd had her own room there, and plenty of space to keep her treasures. But even then, it hadn't been enough. It wasn't hers.

She heard the sheets ruffling, and when she glanced back over her shoulder, she saw Brynjolf had given up on her coming back and tucked himself beneath the quilt, stretching out to rest in comfort.

Comfort she'd had to force on him, no less.

Their philosophies were so very different; it boggled her mind. Why, if she was going to all the trouble to steal something, wouldn't she put the earnings from it to good use to better her own situation? Life was for living, and living uncomfortably on purpose seemed a crime in and of itself, especially for someone who'd grown up in the Guild. What did he do with all his money, if not spend it?

Then again, spending all her gold hadn't advanced her any further in life. It had just made her comfortable in the moment. Had she saved her wealth, instead of frivolously spending it and allowing Mallus to suck it away, she might not be in the situation she was in: squatting in an unowned house with nothing around her to call her own. Or maybe Brutus would have stabbed her sooner, in order to take what was hers for himself.


	10. Chapter 10

Ginna didn't know how long she'd been standing there, tangled in her own thoughts and with a dusty book she'd plucked off the shelf, but she hadn't heard him get up or walk across the floor until he was standing behind her lifting his hand to her shoulder. She gasped, startled as she spun around just in time to catch the furrow of his apologetic brow.

"You still trust me so little, eh?" he asked, amusement drawing at his lips, but not quite reaching his eyes.

"I didn't hear you come out."

"What are you doing out here all by yourself? The bed is warm, and so am I."

"I was just appreciating this house," she said, lowering his gaze from his. "It seems a shame that no one lives here. Houses are like life. They should be filled with laughter and love and family…" Three things her own life had lacked in such capacity, it surprised even her that she knew what they were at all.

The grass was always greener, she supposed.

Brynjolf's face lit up, the smile he'd been holding finally lifting to his eyes. "All right, then. We should appreciate it to the fullest extent while we're here," he mused. "Sit down and eat together at a proper table and tip back a few flagons of mead. What do you say, lass? Be my Molly for a day? I'll be your Muirin."

She glanced up into his eyes, so green and so full of light and enthusiasm, she actually felt a part of her heart melt just a little and she wanted to throw her arms around his neck and hug him. "Really?"

"Why not? We're already here. We might as well make the most of it."

"I'd like that."

"It's settled then. You get a fire started and I'll go dig up some food."

Brynjolf dressed and slipped out the door to sneak down into the city to find some food, while Ginna knelt in front of the hearth to start a fire. It caught quick, blazing to life to burn the chill from the air and lend warm light to the dining room that only intensified the coziness she felt. She crouched down in front of the hearth for a long time, the sheet from the bed wrapped around her like a dressing gown as she watched the flames leap and dance and peel away the shadows.

There had been genuine sadness in his eyes when he'd realized she still didn't trust him after he'd snuck up on her. Her own guild brother had stabbed her in the back; what did he expect from her? She couldn't understand why he was so trusting, but that level of faith and certainty in another person wasn't something one offered up without time. For Ginna, the amount of time required to gain her trust had always been substantial… years, decades, sometimes never. Now she wasn't sure she'd ever trust anyone again.

She did enjoy his company, and even if it was kind of stupid, she felt comfortable when she was with him, almost safe. But she wasn't stupid. Safety was an illusion, and it didn't matter what line of work a person was in. The world they lived in was dark and there was danger around every corner. Choosing to live among the shadows only increased the probability of risk that much more. Guarding herself was a given, especially from someone as fair and well-spoken as Brynjolf.

It felt like an hour had passed, with no sign of Brynjolf, and she was starting to worry. She rose several times and crept to the door, opening it a crack to peer outside, but there was no disturbance down below, no guard lingering near the bottom of the stairs. She was just walking back to the door to check for him again when it creaked open just enough for him to slide through, a small sack clutched in his hand.

"What took you so long?" she started toward him. "I was starting to think you'd gotten caught."

"I took a little walk outside the walls," he explained, lowering the heavy sack to the table.

"There's no food inside Markarth?"

Grinning, he dug his hand into his pocket as he approached. "I brought a little something for my lovely Molly." He drew it out and opened his fingers, the warm light from the candles and hearth flashing green across the surface.

"You…" She started to reach for it, a part of her afraid it wouldn't feel the same in her hand, that it would be different or wrong. But as soon as he tilted it into her palm, she could almost feel its familiarity, humming at some low frequency only she could hear.

"I wanted to catch the caravan before it was gone again. Ri'saad sends his regards to the pretty lady with good taste in shiny stones." He bowed his head as if in greeting and added, "He said to tell that pretty one if she grew tired of Riften, there is always room in his caravan for a wife."

"I thought it would be gone for good." She closed her hand around it, fist clenching so tight the cut actually pressed into her skin and left marks.

"It cost almost twice what you sold it to him for yesterday, and my share of our cut from today is gone, but I know how hard it was for you to sell it."

"Thank you." She threw her arms around his neck, the emerald still clutched in her hand as she hugged him. "You don't know how much this means to me."

"Maybe you'll tell me while we sit around our dinner table," he gestured to the sack on the table. "It isn't much. Bread, a few wedges of cheese, some eggs and leeks."

"We'll make a fine feast out if it," she promised, dragging the sack to the cooking pot and getting to work.

It did feel like a real home when they sat across from one another at the table, dining on fried bread with scrambled eggs and melted cheese. After little more than apples over the last few days, Ginna really felt like it was the best meal she'd ever eaten, and she savored every bite, washing it down with gulps of warm, Black-Briar mead.

After finishing her supper, she leaned back and stretched her short legs to reach the chair beside him. Hands rested on her firm belly, she sighed contentment and reached for her mead.

"This was a good idea," Brynjolf decided, pushing his empty plate away. "I'm glad you talked me into it."

"Aye," she agreed. "For a minute there, I almost felt like I was home."

"Tell me about your emerald, lass," he prompted, following her lead and leaning back in the chair, long legs stretching until his feet reached the empty seat at her side. "What's so special about it?"

"Not much to tell, really," she shrugged, tipping her flagon back to drink. "It was the first thing I ever stole."

"Really?" Perplexed, his forehead wrinkled as he mulled over that thought.

"Swiped it from the pocket of an Altmer soldier in the courtyard as he was marching by." She only had to close her eyes to see the whole scene unfold as if it had happened only seconds before. "Never even knew I was there. I'd just turned seven, and my da gave me nothing but grief on my name day. I wanted presents like the other little girls. A doll, some coral necklace I could show off, but I got nothing. The back of his hand and an earful of misery. I was pouting outside the White Gold tower ruins, and when the soldier walked by, I just reached in and took everything out of his pocket. Keys, a few coins, that jewel. I tossed the keys into the sewer and used the coin to buy a sweet roll and some candied apples to glut myself on, but that emerald was the real prize." Opening her eyes, he was watching from across the table, his face long with fascination tinged in sorrow as he listened. "None of the other little girls had anything like it. Happy birthday to me."

"Happy birthday to you." A slow smile warmed his lips, which soon disappeared into his flagon. Lowering it again, he stretched his neck until it cracked and sighed. "I don't even remember the first thing I ever stole. That's how young I was."

"What was the best thing you ever stole?"

He reached over and shifted her legs, drawing her feet into his lap. His warm hands immediately went to work, massaging along the arch, pressing delightfully hard to loosen the tension. No one had ever done anything like that for her before, and for a moment she thought she might die and go to Sovngarde, a grateful groan escaping her as she rolled her head along the back of the chair behind her. "Besides your heart?"

Ginna laughed. "You're not quite there yet, but you keep that up and I may have to just hand it to you on a silver plate."

"Make it a gold plate, and you've got yourself a deal."

They were quiet, content as an old married couple with nothing but each other's company and the crackle of the fire in the hearth. It wasn't something she'd ever fantasized about in her life, getting married, growing old with someone. In all her daydreams she'd been alone, reveling in the peaceful silence of the big, beautiful house her efforts had won her. Surrounded by gold statues, silk tapestries decorating the walls, carved, marble archways and a lush, fragrant garden where she could sit in the sun and listen to the birds sing. A giant tub she could sink into and relax after a long, hard day rifling through other people's pockets. And in that vision, the fact that she'd been alone had never bothered her, but there was a certain peacefulness about being alone with Brynjolf that made her feel… whole.

Once again, the depth of comfort she felt in his company disturbed her, and she drew away, pulling her legs from his lap and standing up. They'd met just two weeks earlier, and already he knew more about her than people in her own guild family. It made her feel reckless and foolish, as if she was slowly starting to forget everything Severus had taught her.

"I'm tired." She yawned, stretching her shoulders back as she turned away from the table. "I haven't slept in a real bed in so long, I've almost forgotten what it's supposed to feel like."

"You go on ahead, lass. Get some rest," he nodded. "I'm going to finish my mead, appreciate this house a little while longer."

She could see him from the bedroom, leaned back in the chair, feet still propped and a half-empty flagon of mead in his hand. The light from the hearth cast flickering shadows across his face, but she could see his eyes were closed, mouth relaxed. Slipping down into the sheets, she curled up on her side and watched him for a long time before finally falling asleep. She stirred only long enough to sink into his warmth when he moved into bed behind her, arms drawing her in as he spooned her body into his.


	11. Chapter 11

Ginna didn't want to leave Vlindrel Hall when Brynjolf nudged her awake an hour before dawn. She'd been comfortable and warm and having the most delightful dream, and though he'd been gentle about drawing her away from that comfort—whispering softly as he kissed beside her ear—his gentleness did little to sweeten the sour mood that would more than likely follow her all the way to Riften.

"That house should be mine," she grumped, as she stepped into his hands so he could hoist her into the back of the carriage after he'd paid the driver forty septims.

"Give it a rest, lass. You sound like a spoiled child," he noted, climbing up to slump into the bench beside her. "If you're going to bellyache all the way to Riften, I'd just as soon get out and walk."

"One day it will be," she decided, crossing her arms against the chill of the mists rolling in off the river.

"And one day I'll have a stable full of horses," he muttered. "And a fleet of ships. A palace and a crown, and all of Tamriel will call me his lordship as they bow to lick my boots and ask me if there's anything else they can do to make my life less complicated."

His sarcastic jest was meant to make her laugh, she could tell by the way he nudged his elbow into her arm when he leaned into her, but Ginna was not amused. Ignoring him, she turned her gaze over her shoulder and watched the road beneath the spinning wheels of the carriage for a long time. They passed by the empty place the Khajiit caravan had camped out just the night before, the wagon dipping down the hillside and steadily heading east.

The fact that he had humored her enough to play along with her foolish fantasy while they were in Markarth should have said something about the lengths he was willing to go to make her like him, but she was still having a hard time wrapping her head around why he'd go to so much trouble trying to win the affections of a total stranger. Brynjolf was a con artist; a damn good one too. She'd watched him shift from scoundrel to nobleman in a matter of seconds, by doing little more than changing his attire. How much of his gentle, romantic act with her was con, and how much of it real? Getting her emerald back from Ri'saad had been a nice touch. He obviously wanted something more from her than what he'd already found between her thighs, but what?

The weather in Skyrim was a strange and unpredictable thing; clear skies and warm winds soon yielded to drizzle, which then turned to sleet and back to rain again as they stopped in the small town of Falkreath to change carriages. Eventually, Ginna's mood shifted, and by day Brynjolf entertained her with stories and songs. By night, they huddled together against the cold as the horse cart rolled on. The only thing less predictable than the weather was the road, busy with caravans and travelers, carriages and Stormcloak soldiers marching north to war. Ginna knew very little about the war, only that some Nord jarl from Windhelm wanted to sever Skyrim from the failing Empire and the Aldmeri Dominion. She'd heard tell of Stormcloak victories that made old Titus Mede tremble on his throne.

"Fools," Brynjolf muttered into his shoulder. "The whole bloody lot of them."

"If they keep on fighting, maybe one day you'll get your wish," she said. "Your palace and your crown and your stable full of horses, your lordship."

He started to laugh, rolling into her on the bench, but his laughter soon subsided as the wagon slowed to a stop and he rose to peer out over the edge. They'd only been on the road an hour or two, and they weren't scheduled to stop again until they reached the Rift.

"Why are we stopping?" Brynjolf called out to the driver.

"Dragon on the road up ahead," the man hollered over his shoulder.

Ginna had heard rumors of dragons long before she crossed the border; but she'd been in Skyrim almost a month and she'd yet to see one of the fabled beasts herself. She'd actually started to think it was Stormcloak propaganda designed to put a little fear into the Empire, but when she heard the distant roar up ahead, excitement trembled in her belly. Jumping up from her seat, she climbed up to stand on the bench and leaned over the railing in hopes of finally catching a glimpse of legend.

Brynjolf stepped up beside her, the two of them watching the distant battle unfurl. Two warriors, a large, hulk of a man and a woman with hair like fire, clashed with wing and frost, their steel and armor glinting in the cold daylight as they danced around the monster like two tiny flies swarming a trash heap in the sweltering heat of summer. It was more exciting than watching the gladiators fight to the death at the arena in Cyrodiil. When the warrior woman climbed up onto the dragon's neck to drive her battle axe through its skull, she gasped with wonder as the beast fell and Ginna gripped the sides of the cart to brace herself when the earth trembled under its thunderous weight. Swarming gold and silver spirals of light writhed out to wrap around the woman, circling and dancing as if she was drawing some kind of power from the dragon's soul.

"Now that's something you don't see every day," Ginna muttered.

"Dragonborn," Brynjolf said.

"What? You mean like Tiber Septim?"

"Aye… They say she has the blood and soul of a dragon," he marveled, quickly shifting into boast-mode. "Sweet kid. I met her once. Tried to convince her to run a con with me, but she didn't have the stomach for it. Too noble, I guess."

"Heroes…" She dropped back down in her seat as the driver drew on the reins and the horses started to move again. Most people preferred to be heroes it seemed, reveling in the high of social acceptance and the good feelings that came with it. The gold they got for their efforts didn't hurt either, but Nord blood or not, Ginna had never been cut out for that kind of life. She preferred to find her glory in the shadows and the depths of other people's pockets.

"It takes all kinds to make the world go 'round," Brynjolf said, lowering beside her and leaning into her as the carriage lurched forward.

They watched the roadside as the two dragonslayers ran past, both of them dressed in blood-spattered blue and bronze armor the Stormcloak army favored, shields painted with the Bear. The heavy pad of their boots carried them until they were no more than tiny specks in the distance, but Ginna was far more fascinated by the body of the dead dragon when they passed. It looked like it was only sleeping, that at any moment it might wake up and devour them in their seats.

Nothing topped the excitement of that dragon during the remainder of their journey into The Rift. For a time the ice and snow through the southern mountain pass was almost unbearable, and not even huddling together and sharing Brynjolf's warmth seemed enough to make her teeth stop chattering. But soon the sun overpowered the clouds, green patches spotted amidst the snow until the roadside grew lush with grass and herbs. It had felt much warmer in Solitude and Markarth, at least her lungs didn't feel like they were freezing every time she drew a breath. When the temperature shifted, so too did the air, the clean, fresh scent of ice and snow slowly yielding to stagnant water as they grew closer and closer to Riften.

From a distance, the small city built above Lake Honrich actually looked cozy. Fishing boats docked at the pier, the fishermen bustling up and down the stairs that led into the city through the back door. The closer they grew, the more rundown it appeared, the quaint houses and shops within the walls in desperate need of repair, but worst of all, really, was the smell and the constant fog lingering in the air. She could immediately feel it seeping into her clothes, making them feel damp and uncomfortable.

The carriage driver parked just outside the stables, and Brynjolf hopped down first, reaching up to help Ginna to the ground.

"Ah," he remarked. "It's good to be home."

She scanned the high walls of the city before turning her attention to the burly stablemaster leaned against the pillar between the stall while a young Redguard shoveled dung into a bucket. He paused as they approached, turning dark, wary eyes on them before shifting his view to his boss.

"Hofgrir," Brynjolf nodded as they sauntered toward the gates.

"Brynjolf." The other man returned the gesture, but his lusty eyes followed Ginna.

One of the guards at the gate stepped up to the meet them, lifting his helmet to make eye contact. "Maven's paced a hole through the floor at the Bee & Barb, Bryn. I was told to send you over to meet her as soon as you return. You didn't hear it from me, but word on the street is, she wants your head."

"Thanks for the warning." Stepping through the gates, his demeanor shifted. The fun-loving, playful man without a care in the world seemed to dwindle, his brow furrowing, lips pursing tight together, eyes narrowing with focus.

Ginna couldn't have focused in that moment if she tried. There was too much going on around her. The distant clang and hammer of steel, voices calling out wares from the merchant circle up ahead, guards lingering at every corner, the constant lap and splash of water underneath the streets. She stopped for a moment to take it all in, but Brynjolf kept walking, not even realizing he'd lost her until he started across the bridge.

"Come on, lass. I need to get in there and square things with Maven, and quick. There was a big job going down, and I should have been back a week ago to make sure it got done right. From the sound of things, that job didn't get done the way she wanted it."

She followed him across the bridge and through a set of double doors, but not without lifting her eyes to the sign above the tavern. The Bee and Barb, with a black and gold bee perched along the bend of a fishing hook; how quaint.

A stern Argonian stood at the entrance with his arms crossed, wide, golden eyes surveying the two of them with unveiled disgust. "If you're looking for Maven Black-Briar, she's upstairs."

Brynjolf turned over his shoulder to look down at her. "It'd be best if you waited for me down here." He tried to force a smile, but his lips were still so tight it came out a grimace. "I don't know how long I'll be, so best to get comfortable."

They'd divvied up the remainder of their earnings from Markarth in the carriage, and she had a few loose septims in her pocket, enough to buy herself a drink, anyway. After watching him disappear up the stairs, Ginna drew back and glanced around the tavern. It was early afternoon, but there were still quite a few people seated at the tables picking over a late lunch. The tavern proprietor kept his watchful golden eyes on her when she made her way to the bar and ordered a pint of Black-Briar mead. She carried it to an empty table and sat down, then proceeded to size up everyone in the place.

She'd never seen a more depressing gathering of people in her life. Even the Imperial mercenary near the door was a sad sight to behold, his mage's robes ragged and tattered, the mug in his grip seemingly molded to his hand as he lifted it to drink. He caught her gaze for a moment and smiled, rising from the bench to walk toward her.

"Why watch your back, when you can pay someone else to watch it for you? For just five hundred septims, all I have to offer can be yours. My skill in battle is unmatched." He grinned confidently, eyes dropping to the empty chair across from her. "I've never seen you around here before. Looking to hire some extra protection? You'll definitely need it in a city like Riften."

"Really?" Ginna tipped back her drink and enjoyed several hearty swallows. "And why's that?"

"You mean you really don't know?" he marveled, pulling out the chair to sit down without an invitation. He pushed the long ponytail of his tethered hair over his shoulder and leaned in to talk, as if he were about to share some secret with her. It was funny, the way arrogance and confidence made even the most ragged of men seem attractive for a fleeting moment. Or maybe he just reminded her of home. "Riften is home to the Thieves Guild. It may seem quiet now, but when the sun goes down, it's a dangerous place. A pretty girl like you wouldn't want to find herself… unprotected."

"Whatever gave you the idea I couldn't protect myself?" she smirked

In the rafters above their table, Ginna heard a woman shouting, and she made no bones about anyone else hearing her words. "It would seem you only grow more foolish and reckless with age. What in the Eight Divines am I paying you for? You're useless to me. I should just turn my back on you and watch you all wallow in your own despair."

"I'm sorry, Maven," Brynjolf's tone was much quieter, like an apologetic son who couldn't stomach his mother's disappointment. "I don't know what happened…"

"No, because you weren't here. You were in Solitude chasing after some rogue who made your prick swell, when you should have been here taking care of business. I didn't pay for her release so you would have another toy to play with, Brynjolf. You guaranteed me that she would be an asset to our mutual business."

"And she will, Maven… I just need…"

"You need to pull that foolish head out of your ass and focus on business. I've already spoken to Mercer. I want Aringoth to squirm, and if you can't make that happen before the week is out, I will pull out and you'll all be on your own. Am I clear?"

"As a crystal, Maven. I won't let you down. I promise."

"I'm sure you'll find some way to humiliate me. Now, about this little playmate of yours… How is _she_ going to be of use to me?"

The mercenary was still talking, but all Ginna had gotten from him was his name. "…And then I wound up here. A long way from Cyrodiil, I guess, but the Mage's College in Winterhold is far superior to the College of Whispers, at least in my opinion."

"Right… Look, Marcurio, was it? I'm not interested in hiring your… services." And even if she was, she could never afford his prices. Prostitutes in Cyrodiil charged less for a full night of pleasure than he was asking, and she highly doubted she'd get much pleasure from his company. "I protect myself."

"Oh," the softness in his face diminished, bright hazel eyes narrowing under her slight. "You think you can protect yourself out there? You won't last one night in this place, and when you come crawling back to ask for my help… Well, I just might not be here."

She looked up just in time to see a humbled, scowling Brynjolf coming down the stairs, and rose from her seat. "We'll just see about that," she offered him a smug smile as Brynjolf approached. Marcurio lifted his stare along the length of that shadow over his shoulder, and Ginna thought she saw him gulp a little.

"Let's get going," Brynjolf said, avoiding her eyes when she looked up at him.

She followed him out of the Bee & Barb and through the winding pier until they reached a temple. He hadn't said anything to her since they'd left the tavern, walking two steps in front of her until they came upon the cemetery behind the temple. There were shadowmarks carved into the tomb encasing and when he reached over to press a small button in the crypt, Ginna actually took a step back as a secret entryway slid open with a great groaning scrape.

"All right, lass. This is it." He finally turned around to face her, green eyes softening as he scanned her face.

"I overheard you talking to Maven Black-Briar," she changed the subject. "She didn't sound too happy with you."

It was like he'd put the guard he'd just pulled down back up, the gentleness quickly disappearing from his face. "You don't need to worry about Maven Black-Briar, yet. You'll have your moment with her soon enough, but until then I'm going to need you to focus on fitting in around here."

"Right," she sighed. She hadn't even been inside, and she could already tell she wasn't going to fit in. They were about to crawl under a cemetery to get to the guild headquarters.

"When the time comes, just let me do the talking. Mercer can be a little… rough around the edges, if you know what I mean. Maven told him you were coming, but he's never exactly been one to take in outsiders without question. He doesn't get the same sense from folks that I do, and he's not near as trusting. It might take some time to convince him of your worth."

"What do you mean, you get a sense from people?"

"I don't know," he shrugged. "It's always been a gift of mine. One look at a person, and I know all I'll ever need to know about them." Turning back into the crypt, he added, "It's why you're here, lass. I know I can trust you."

Without another word, he began to descend the stone steps into the belly of Riften and she followed. He tugged the pull-chain that closed the crypt over their heads, and then slipped into the entryway, climbing down a rickety wooden ladder that landed in an open cistern that immediately made her appreciate the aboveground stench of Riften.

Brynjolf turned over his shoulder to grin at her. "Welcome home, lass."


	12. Chapter 12

She'd expected the worst walking into that place, but not even her low expectations did justice to the filth and darkness of that place. The constant drip and run of water from Lake Honrich seeped through the cracks in the limestone walls, and Ginna had taken only two steps into the place before one of those droplets splashed over her cheek.

"Brynjolf, you're back," a young Imperial man lit up when he saw them, his curious stare moving over Brynjolf's shoulder to rest on Ginna. "Things are never the same when you're not around. Mercer's been in a real bad mood, and yesterday I thought Vex and Delvin might actually kill each other."

"When aren't Vex and Delvin at each other's throats?" he chuckled. "Rune, this is Ginna. She'll be staying with us for a spell. I need to talk to Mercer in private. Would you mind giving her the grand tour?"

"Sure thing, Brynjolf."

She watched him stalk off toward the center of the cistern without so much as another word, and then turned her attention to the young man he'd left her with. "I'm Rune," he told her.

"Rune, that's an unusual name."

"Aye," he nodded. "My father told me he found me off the coast of Solitude when I was just a boy. All he found in my pocket was a stone inscribed with these strange runes."

"Do you know what they mean?"

"No one does. I even took the damn things over to the College of Winterhold, but they couldn't tell me anything either. I must have spent every damn coin I've made with the Guild trying to figure out what it means, but with no luck."

"Huh," she furrowed her brow. "Maybe you just aren't meant to know."

"Perhaps," he agreed, though he didn't seem to believe that. She could see it in his soft eyes. "Maybe they are nothing more than inane scribblings done out of boredom, but if not… they may tell me where I came from, what ship I was on… everything."

"So… who gave you the name?"

"Actually, the fisherman who found me, the man I call my father. I never changed it because it never felt right to do so."

"Sounds logical."

"I suppose," he shrugged. "Come on. I'll show you around."

Ginna fell into step beside him, following him along the stone circle of the cistern. He showed her a bed, told her she could sleep in it, but Ginna couldn't imagine ever laying her head on the pillow in that bed. He took her into the training room, where they found a dark-haired Nord shooting a never ending stream of arrows at a practice dummy.

"That's Vipir the Fleet," Rune explained. "He's the best pickpocket we have down here."

A fellow pickpocket. Ginna felt her heart swell with admiration when he glanced over his shoulder at her, blue eyes taking her in before he released one final arrow and stood up straight. "Who is this?"

"This is Ginna," he said. "She came with Brynjolf. I'm giving her the tour."

"Great," he sneered. "Another mouth to feed. That's all we need around here."

"I feed myself, actually," she assured him. "Been doing it since I was old enough to hold a spoon."

"And an attitude to boot," he rolled his eyes. "You should keep that in check, or you won't make many friends down here, little girl."

"I'm not here to make friends," she said. "I'm here to make gold."

She saw a flash of appreciation in his eyes then, the corner of his mouth twitching just a little. "Good, then you'll fit right in."

She didn't think so. She'd been raised among an entirely different class of thieves; she'd discovered as much just in spending what little time she'd spent with Brynjolf in the last two weeks. The people she'd worked with in the past weren't afraid to flaunt the fruits of their labor, but did so with pride. These people Brynjolf called his family… they all seemed so ragged and poor. She wasn't sure how she was going to make it among them, but she didn't say as much, just followed Rune out of the training room. When he introduced her to Ninruin, her opinion shifted just a little, as he told her his story of abandoned wealth out of boredom, his time with the Silver Crescents in Valenwood and a father who couldn't stomach the thought of his only son playing rogue when he had access to more money and comfort than most people would ever know in a lifetime. Rune was just introducing her to an old jailbreaker named Cynric Endell when they spotted Brynjolf near the center of the Cistern, waving her over.

"Well, it was good meeting you," Rune smiled. "I hope you stick around. You seem nice."

"I'll be seeing you," she started away, then turned back. "And I'll keep my eye out for anything about your family. If I hear anything…"

"Thank you," he nodded appreciatively. "That would be great."

Brynjolf had spoken very highly of Mercer Frey over their brief time together; so highly, in fact, that she had almost been expecting some kind of god, but the greying Breton in his mid-fifties looked otherwise ordinary enough, and when Ginna approached, he seemed about as impressed with her as she was with him.

"Mercer, this is Ginna, the one I was telling you about, our new recruit."

"This… is the Great Ghost of Cyrodiil Maven wasted good coin to spring from prison?" he scoffed. "Maven may have more money than she knows what to do with, but this better not be another waste of the Guild's resources, Brynjolf." Arms still crossed, he looked her up and down and shook his head. "Before we even continue, we need to get a few things straight. We don't do things here the way you people down in Cyrodiil do, and you may have been some big shot high-ender down there, but here, you're nothing until you prove yourself. You play by our rules and you'll walk away rich. You break the rules and you lose your cut. No debates, no discussions. You do what we say, when we say."

Ginna felt her jaw clench, eyes shifting right to Brynjolf, but he looked away almost guiltily without meeting her gaze.

"Do I make myself clear?" Mercer asked, drawing her attention back to him.

She drew in a deep breath through her nose to calm her temper before it could flare. She hated how much she needed that place, hated that she'd let herself get culled into a debt to Brynjolf and Maven Black-Briar that put her at the mercy of that crass and seedy little man in front of her. "Yes," she nodded. "I understand."

"Good," he grinned. "Now, I understand you may have _special_ skills that could prove particularly useful to us. I think it's time we put your expertise to the test."

"Wait a moment." Brynjolf stepped out to look over at him with disbelief. "You're not talking about Goldenglow, are you? From what Maven told me, not even our little Vex could infiltrate that place. It sounds like a lost cause. I know Maven wants it, but…"

"And that, my boy, is why you'll never lead this Guild. You bring me this so-called master infiltrator, who's infamy claims she can walk through walls, and then you tell me you don't think she can do it? Make up my mind, Brynjolf. Either she can do it, or we send her on her way and be done with her. I've no room in my Guild for those who aren't willing to pull their weight."

Before Brynjolf could answer, Ginna stepped up to the challenge. "I can do it. Just tell me what needs to be done."

"Finally." Mercer relaxed his shoulders. "Someone with initiative. Goldenglow Estate is critically important to one of our largest clients. However, the owner has suddenly decided to take matters into his own hands and he's shut us out. He needs to be taught a lesson."

"Of course," she mused, ignoring Brynjolf's stare.

"Brynjolf will provide you with all the details," he confirmed, starting to turn away from her.

"Mercer, aren't you forgetting something?" Brynjolf asked.

"Hmm? Oh, yes." He returned his attention to her, cold grey eyes squinted with vague disinterest. "Since Brynjolf assures me you'll be nothing but a benefit to us, you're in. Welcome to the Riften Thieves Guild."

His footsteps as he walked away were soon swallowed by the constant fall of water, but Ginna didn't look over at Brynjolf again until he started to speak. Everything about him had changed since they'd set foot in Riften; not that she should have cared, but she did. She'd thought she'd actually started to get to know the man she'd been with over the last two weeks, but the guy standing in front of her was different. More serious and focused, almost cold. She hated to admit it, but she actually missed the guy who'd sprung her from prison and played house with her in Markarth.

"It's official then, lass. You're part of the family now. I'll take you into the Flagon to meet with the rest of the gang in just a moment. Tonilia will get you fitted with your new armor, and you should talk to Vex about Goldenglow. She may be able to let you know what you're up against in there."

"Right."

"The rules Mercer spoke of are relatively clear. You get your cut of the spoils by doing what we ask and keeping your blade clean. We can't turn a profit by killing. Understand?"

"Yes."

"Delvin and Vex should be able to kick some extra jobs your way from time to time, so you'll want to make a good first impression."

"Of course," she sighed. "Tell me more about this Goldenglow job."

"Walk with me while we talk." He started down the walkway and she followed. "Goldenglow Estate is a bee farm. They raise the wretched little things for honey. It's owned by some smart-mouthed wood elf named Aringoth. You're going to give him what he's got coming to him by burning down three of the estate's hives and then clearing out the safe in the main house."

They approached a hidden panel entrance, which Brynjolf unlocked with one of the keys on his belt.

"So, what's the catch?"

"The catch is that you can't burn the whole place to the ground. That important client Mercer mentioned would be furious."

"You mean Maven Black-Briar?"

"You catch on quick, lass. The last thing we want to be doing is crossing Maven. She's the only thing holding this place together right now."

"Right," she agreed. "So, what about Aringoth? What should I do about him?"

"Maven prefers that Aringoth remain alive, but if he tries to stop you from getting the job done, kill him. And you watch yourself on that island. Those mercenaries don't take prisoners." He turned in that alcove, the two of them still hidden from whatever remained beyond the door he'd just opened. Shadows passed across his face, making it almost impossible to see him, but his eyes caught in the flickering torchlight from the room at Ginna's back. He looked almost desperate, as if she literally held every last one of his hopes and dreams in her grasp and all she had to do was close her hand to crush them. "Look, I hate to say this, but the Guild has a lot riding on this job. _I've_ got a lot riding on it. I'm counting on you to get it done right for me."

"I hear you," she assured him. "Loud and clear."

"Good." He lifted a hand to rest against her cheek, cradling her face in his warm palm. "All eyes are on you, lass. Don't disappoint me."


	13. Chapter 13

She should have kneed him in the groin after he said those words to her, but she didn't. Instead she followed him through that secret entrance and tamped down the surge of feelings rising up inside her. Maven had called her his toy; maybe that was all she'd been. She didn't know and she didn't want to care, but she did. He'd gotten under her skin a little during their time together, and now that they were on his turf he'd changed.

On the road, he'd talked endlessly about how bad off his Guild was, but she hadn't really believed it could as bad as he made it sound until she set foot in the place. Even at their lowest low, the Guild in Cyrodiil had never been as bad off as Skyrim's flailing band of brigands and bandits. His precious Ragged Flagon was even less glorious than the Cistern, a group of bored thieves milling about tipping back ale and mead by the bottle.

"Brynjolf, eh? Let me guess." Delvin Mallory surveyed her with appreciation and wonder after Brynjolf introduced her. He'd withheld the little bit about where she'd come from, and she was glad. It was bad enough Mercer knew her history in Cyrodiil, the moniker her brethren had given her. Brynjolf told her Delvin especially would be intrigued to learn the Ghost of Cyrodiil walked among them, and maybe in good time she'd share that little bit about herself, but not until she knew those people better. Or maybe she'd never tell them at all. "He plucks you up off the streets and drops you into the thick of things without even tellin' ya which way is up. Am I right?"

"Don't let those big blue eyes of hers fool you, Delvin. This little shadow could probably teach us all a few things about direction."

"Oh yeah?" He drew his soft brown eyes up to hold her gaze, a flicker of interest flaring within them as his thin blonde eyebrow twitched upward. "I wouldn't mind a bit of schoolin', if ya know what I mean, pet."

"I hear you've got a skillset all your own that's worth tapping into," Ginna grinned. "I studied your Shadowmarks quite extensively as a girl. Brilliant work, well done."

If she thought his eyes were shining before, they literally sparkled after she said that. Within seconds of having met her, Delvin slipped into a ten minute rant about the great curse that had befallen the Guild. "Somethin' out there is piss-drunk mad at us. I don't know who or what it is, but it's beyond you or me. We've been cursed, I tell ya."

"She's only just got here, Delvin. Don't drive her back out with your insane ramblings about curses," Brynjolf laughed.

"What? I think she needs to know what we're really up against."

"Yeah, you're liable to scare the poor little thing half to death and then where would we be?" A wiry little blonde in the corner rolled her eyes.

_Vex_. Brynjolf had told her all about Vex, and she wouldn't lie; she'd been dying to meet her. Ginna liked her the minute she saw her; she was a woman after her own heart. Leaning against a pile of wooden crates with her arms crossed, there was nothing but pure venom in her eyes as she watched Brynjolf parade Ginna around like some kind of trophy. He finally took a seat at the bar and directed her to a Redguard woman named Tonilia, who welcomed her with less-than-warming sarcasm.

"Welcome to the cozy little family," Tonilia said, drawing her attention away from Vex. "I'm one of the lookouts. I watch Delvin's back. Looks like you and I are going to become very well acquainted. I'm the fence down here. You come across anything you don't exactly own, and I'll buy it from you, minus a little slice for the Guild, of course."

"Great," she nodded. She knew how fences worked. She'd been working with them all her life. "Brynjolf said you had something for me?"

"I do. Just make sure you put it to good use."

"Of course," she agreed, taking the folded set of Guild armor as Tonilia handed it over to her. Ginna could feel the enchantments emanating from the leather, and though she'd never admit it to anyone if they asked, she couldn't wait to try it on and put those enchantments to the test.

She was starting to make her way toward Vex again when a broad-shouldered hunk of mutton-chopped muscle crossed her path. "I don't care if you're bed buddies with the Guildmaster. I'll smash in your skull if you try anything."

"Whoa there, killer," she backed up and held up her hand. "And who might you be?"

"Name's Dirge," he scowled, the bush of his eyebrows knitting together.

"Dirge?" she wrinkled her forehead, a soft chuckle escaping her. "What kind of a name is Dirge?"

"They call me Dirge because I'm the last thing you hear before they put you in the ground." He slammed a heavy fist into his palm to drive his point home. "Why? You got a problem with that?"

"A problem? No, no. I think Dirge is a fabulous name," she sniggered.

"Huh? Well… good." She started to move around him, but one last time for good measure, he said, "I mean it, don't cause any trouble, or else."

Before she even reached Vex, the woman was talking. "Before we get started, there are two things you need to understand. One, I'm the best infiltrator this rathole of a guild's got, so if you think you're here to replace me you're dead wrong. Two, you follow my lead and do exactly as I say. No questions, no excuses. We clear."

"Clear," Ginna nodded.

"All right. I'm not gonna sugar coat it for you. We're in a bad way down here."

"Any idea why?"

"Who knows. Old Delvin thinks it's some kind of curse. I think he's crazy. You want my opinion? I say it's just plain old bad luck."

She hated to side with the crazy old guy, but after having endured the cold knife of betrayal from her own Guild, Ginna was starting to lean toward Delvin's synopsis. Something out there _was_ piss-drunk mad at them, whatever that meant, and it was making them all pay. She didn't say as much, but shrugged a little and asked, "So what do we do about it?"

"You can get out there and start making a name for us again. If you're as _great_ as Brynjolf seems to think you are, you should have no problem putting the fear back into the people. And while you're at it, make a bit of coin for yourself in the meanwhile. Not a bad deal, eh?"

"Not bad at all. Look, I overheard you ran into a bit of trouble over at Goldenglow…"

"Yeah? What am I? Story of the day now? Delvin…" She started to push herself up from where she stood, a fire in her eyes worth running from. From the corner of her eye, Ginna caught Delvin shifting uneasily in his seat, as if he actually feared that tiny little Imperial infiltrator more than anything else in the world.

"No, not Delvin. Mercer mentioned it, actually, when he was giving me the details on the job. I just… He's sending me over there to take care of it, sort of a test, I guess, to see if I'm really cut out to join your ranks. I wanted to talk to you before I go. See if you can give me any advice that might help me get the job done so we can all get paid."

"Oh…" Vex narrowed her sharp blue eyes and leveled them over her. Ginna couldn't tell if she was annoyed or if the fact that she'd asked for help had won her a bit of silent respect. "Well, in that case, I'll tell you what I know. That Aringoth… he may seem like an idiot, but that wood elf's a lot smarter than I expected. Can you believe that fetcher had more than tripled the guard? There must have been eight of them in there. Who knows how many he'll have when you hit it. It was like he was daring us to come and get him."

"Any tips then?"

"Well," she sighed, raising a hand into her blonde locks. "There's an old sewer tunnel that dumps into the lake on the northwest side of the island. That's how I slipped in there. They had no idea how I got in, so it should still be unguarded."

"All right," Ginna nodded. "Thanks for the tip."

"Yeah, sure… try not to muck things up. We need this job to go through more than you can even imagine."

She didn't even look at Brynjolf again as she made her way back to the Cistern to exit the Guild through the cemetery. She could feel his eyes on her, _all eyes were on her_, but she didn't acknowledge it. He'd said all he needed to say; it was clear why he'd really brought her there and it had been from the start. She was there to help him get his Guild back on its feet; anything else that had transpired between them was just a bonus.

She didn't want to let on how much his shift in behavior actually bothered her. The unfortunate thing, she realized as she made her way west along the riverbank, was that it did bother her. He'd shown her a side of himself, a side she was seriously beginning to think had been false from the moment they met at the Embassy, that made her let down her guard. Not that she cared about the sex. In the end, sex was sex—not some deep display of affection, two hearts fluttering to eke out the same rhythm, love… ugh. But Brynjolf had actually made her feel a little soft inside when she was with him, drawing her into his warmth, lowering sweet, attentive kisses against her temple as he snuggled into her with no intention of throwing her down and tearing off her clothes.

And Ginna wasn't ever soft inside. She was hard as ice, all business, no games–pure and simple. No man had ever gotten in the way of her doing her job, well… except for Brutus, but not in some twisted romantic way that made her heart feel all aflutter in her chest. Just thinking about her guild-brother was enough to shift her focus from Brynjolf, the fiery ache for revenge burning away at the softness she'd let rise inside her for a moment. After all, wasn't that why she hadn't run from Brynjolf when she had the chance? To rebuild her strength and realign with the shadows in order to rise up and make Brutus pay for his crimes against her? Against the code of honor among thieves? When she met with him again, she wouldn't stab him in the back. She wanted him to know whose blade sung him to sleep.

In the meantime, she'd do all she could to bring a little glory to the Guild in Skyrim.

A/N: Life and family responsibilities have really gotten in the way of regularly updating my stories here on . For those who are enjoying To Catch a Thief, this story is complete and available in its entirety on my website. Check my author page for the link. Thanks for reading! ~Erica


	14. Chapter 14

She'd been walking almost an hour, the early evening sun dropping in behind the autumn foliage speckled throughout Riften so that every leaf seemed to glow bright orange and gold. Gold, her favorite color… a color she needed to paint the insides of her pockets with again if she ever wanted to get out of Skyrim, and the only way she was going to do that was by focusing her energy on her strengths.

Spying Goldenglow from a distance, it painted a pretty picture against the backdrop of the setting sun. Cozy and warm amidst the billowing fog and absolutely ripe for the picking, the only way to reach the estate was to swim. Fortunately, the onset of night combined with that thick as soup fog was the perfect backdrop for an undetected infiltration. As much as she hated the idea of getting wet, she walked into the water and glided through it without sound until she reached the island.

Scanning the lay of the land, she got her bearings and combed through everything Brynjolf and Vex had told her. It'd be easier to hit the house and clear out Aringoth's safe first, burning the hives on her way out, assuming she was able to make it past the mercenaries set up to guard the place.

She drew back her shoulders and hunched down, sneaking quietly amidst the shadows of the house until she reached the front porch. Vex had gone in through the secret entrance, which would have brought her up just outside the back door, and it was good advice, but Ginna wanted to try a different approach. Ducking down in front of the door, she listened as the voices drifted further away from the front of the house, then drew out her lockpick. Her first attempt snapped the pick, and she cursed under her breath, lifting her face upward and muttering a silent plea to Nocturnal. The second pick cracked mid-turn, and loath as she was to admit it, it was like Nocturnal chuckling softly to herself as she muttered, "You're on your own."

She broke six picks in that lock before she finally heard the glorious click of tumblers lining up and easing free. Turning the knob in her hand quietly, she eased open the door and slipped inside like a shadow. The entryway was clear, and she ducked into the room on her right, rifling through drawers and cupboards, filling her pockets with everything of value she could find before moving forward.

The first set of mercenaries she came up against were sitting around a table sharing mead and stories. There were three of them, big, hulking men with scarred faces and bad attitudes, and though she was definitely quick with a blade, she knew there was no way she'd be able to take out all three of them at once. Drawing her bow off her back, she strung a poison-tipped arrow and carefully lined the biggest of the three in her sight. Her stealth paid off, the arrow sinking into the lunk's chest just beside the heart. He dropped into his soup like a drunk, and Ginna slid aside to hide in the shadows while his comrades jumped up from the table in a panic.

Sheathing her bow, she pulled her blades and dropped down to wait, listening to the sound of their movement, placing their location in proximity to her and timing her first attack perfectly. She took out the first mercenary with a spinning attack that staggered him backward into his cohort, both of them knocking into the table and sending it crashing to the ground. She was able to charge the first one as the second was getting back to his feet, taking him out and leaving just one to face.

They regarded each other, shifting from foot to foot as they circled around one another in a fairytale dance with no happy ending. And Ginna was glad she'd be taking him out. He was one ugly Nord, with a bulbous, red-veined nose and a thick scar that ran through the whitened remains of a blind eye.

"Skyrim belongs to the Nords," he rushed into her, swinging his heavy warhammer and wasting every ounce of his stamina. Ginna was too fast, she rolled left and circled around behind him, drawing her blade across his throat and watching as he dropped to the ground.

"The Nords can have Skyrim." She rolled his dead body with the toe of her boot and knelt down to check his pockets.

The three of them dead didn't offer up much in the way of compensation for her efforts. About thirty gold between them, and an Amulet of Talos, which she slipped into her pockets before moving on. She lingered in the hallway, listened to the voices upstairs.

"I thought I heard something…"

"Probably another pissing contest. I swear the three of them get off on whipping out their cocks in front of each other."

Ginna checked every room, making note of the locked gate that led into the basement before heading up the steps, where she found Aringoth all nice and cozy, tucked into his bed. There were two mercenaries guarding his door, and not enough shadow in the world to slip between them unnoticed. Cursing under her breath, she looked between the two of them and let her mind churn. She really didn't want to wake Aringoth if she didn't have to. She'd prefer for him to wake up in the morning with a house full of corpses and no rhyme or reason to explain it. It would send exactly the kind of message Vex had been talking about, and do more than just teach him a little lesson.

Best of all, it'd make others think twice before crossing the Guild in Skyrim again.

She surveyed everything at her disposal, a pitcher and two goblets on the end table, a few books. Maybe if she could lure one of them away, she could take out the other quietly before he came back. Lifting the pitcher off the table, she set it up in front of the door and toed it down the steps before drawing back into the shadows. It clunked and clattered as it bounced down the stairs, shattering on the landing below.

"Don't tell me you didn't hear that."

"You better go see what those fools are up to."

"You go see…"

"You're the one who's so concerned about it. Don't be a milk-drinker."

"Oh, all right."

Maybe Nocturnal was watching out for her after all, she grinned to herself and watched him stalk down the stairs to find out what the ruckus was. She'd drawn her bow, another poison-tipped arrow at the ready, and seconds after he disappeared down the steps she sunk it into his partner's eye. He slumped down the wall, dropping quietly, and Ginna snuck past him into Aringoth's sleeping quarters. She cleaned out his pockets, his drawers, the chest at the foot of his bed, all the while listening for the sound of horror from below. She heard it, a bellow of dismay, but Aringoth barely stirred. Making her way out of the room, she spied a golden bee statue on the shelf, a pretty little treasure she might be able to sell for an extra bit of coin. Slipping it into her satchel, she rushed quietly out into the hallway again, hoping to cut off the mercenary before he could wake her mark from sleep.

She met with him on the stairs, sword drawn and ready to face her. They tangled a bit, the awkward footing of the steps make it difficult for Ginna to gain ground at first. She shoved her shoulder into him as he charged her, his war axe connecting with her forearm. She managed to stagger him down the steps and leapt at him with both blades swinging when her feet hit the floor. Crossing blades, she scissored them across his throat, his head rolling down the hallway and resting by the gate that led into the basement.

Picking open the lock, she slipped down the stairs and checked out the storage room before heading in to survey to situation. There were two of them, and she was out of poison. She'd just have to face them head on. Her direct attack caught them off guard, but they were both strong warriors, big men and her only advantage was that she was able to slip in between them like a thread, slicing through the belly of one as she rammed her back into the other to shove him away before he could do any real damage. Despite the fact that she'd opened his gut, her foe wasn't going to be taken down so easily. Dual-wielding a set of ancient Nord blades, he spun at her, steel sparking across steel as she ducked out of his reach and jammed her dagger up under his ribs. She twisted it free, blood gurgling from between his lips as he stumbled backward in shock, hand reaching down to touch the fatal wound she'd left in him.

But she didn't have time to survey her own handiwork. His partner was running from behind, war axe raised high and ready to take off her head. She rolled at him, sweeping her leg out to drop him in front of her, and then she drove her bloody dagger into his heart. He twitched and writhed a moment, and then went slack, while Ginna hovered over him catching her breath and allowing her stamina to replenish.

Deeper into the basement, she could hear another voice, and though she listened carefully to determine how many more she had to face, it seemed as if that voice was only talking to himself. Something about keeping a dagger in his boot. Pushing up from where she'd crouched, she slunk down the hallway, peered around the corner and saw him. One scrawny man with a battle axe over his shoulder. She could wound him with an arrow, or just run in, blades swinging. Either way, she was exhausted, and there was no telling how many men awaited their death outside… or hers.

She sunk an arrow into his shoulder, and he reached up to quickly snap it free as she charged in swinging. Catching him off guard, he didn't even have time to reach for his axe. Ginna knocked him to the ground and stepped her foot over his throat. He wrapped strong hands around her ankle, fighting her with everything he had, but in the end his own struggles were his undoing. She twisted against him until she heard bones snap and then he rasped for final breath.

A drop of blood ran down her arm, splattering and sliding down the dead man's cheek like a tear and she lifted her wound to inspect it. It was deeper than she'd thought, but she didn't have time to deal with it. She bent and tore a strip of leather from the mercenary's armor and then grabbed a napkin from the table he'd been pacing around. Wrapping it tight, she descended deeper into Goldenglow Estate until she came upon Aringoth's safe.

Two hundred and fifty gold septims, a flawless diamond and a bill of sale for the estate, which from the looks of things, Aringoth no longer even owned. He'd recently sold it to an anonymous buyer, who'd worked through a dealer named Gulum-Ei, but there was no clue as to who that anonymous buyer might be. Only a strange symbol at the top of the paper that Ginna swore she'd seen before, but couldn't for the life of her remember where. The missive advised him to ignore the Thieves Guild, whose bark was louder than its bite, and would likely refuse to further thing their already dwindling numbers.

Showed how much that person knew, Ginna thought, folding the bill of sale and tucking it carefully into her satchel with the rest of her spoils. Surveying the room, there was a drop into the sewers, which she assumed would carry her quietly back out to the property so she could take care of the hives and head back into Riften before sun up.

The winding tunnels were rife with traps and skeever and frostbite spiders, and Ginna was tired. Getting through them was more difficult than it should have been, and several times she had to stop and slowly heal herself with what little bit of restoration magic she actually possessed. She was much better suited to the school of Illusion, relying on spells like Muffle to keep her feet quiet, but she'd studied well and hard to make sure she knew how to heal herself in a sticky situation. Leaning back against the wall beneath the ladder that led to the surface, she relished in the warm course of restorative magic that surged through her veins. It didn't heal the cut on her arm completely, but enough that she could flex and swing her blade without trouble again.

Finally feeling she'd recuperated enough to take the next steps, she climbed the ladder and lifted the sewer panel to scope out her surroundings. It was quiet behind the house, allowing her to step up into the shadow unnoticed, and for a time she prowled around the fence surveying the situation. There were eight guards outside, three of them patrolling the back doors, three that lingered near the front of the house and two who'd planted themselves firmly in front of the hives.

Dropping down into the water, she swam quietly up under the walkway and lingered beneath the deck listening to the mercenaries talk. None of them had been inside the house yet, but they were getting tired.

"They should have come out to relieve us," she heard one of them mumble. "We've been out here since just after supper. I'm tired."

"Quit complaining," the other said, an orc from the gruff sound of his voice.

"I'm going to find out what the hold up is."

"You walk away from this post, and I'll have your head."

_Please, Nocturnal,_ Ginna thought. Let them turn on each other. It would be just the distraction she needed to slip up the hillside unnoticed and set a torch to those beehives long before any of them even knew what hit them.

"Are you threatening me?" Tempers were rising, so high Ginna could almost feel the damp chill in the air waver.

"Maybe I am," the orc snarled. "You think you could take me? No one bests an orc."

"I'll not only best you. I'll put my blade through your back!"

"I'd like to see you try." Steel slinked along scabbard and the heavy footsteps above her head shifted forward until all she could hear was their melee.

It was perfect, almost divine, and as she slid out of the water and climbed the hill, disappearing up the walkway to the hives, below the low and constant hum of bees swarming, she could still hear them brawling to the death. Grabbing a torch from the sconce near the hives, she lit every other one until three of them blazed like beacons in the night, sending bees blazing through the air with confusion and vengeance.

"Hey! What the…"

"Oh my gods! The hives!"

Ginna dove into the water on the other side of the hives and swam out as far as she could before lifting her head above water to listen to the chaos at Goldenglow Estate. She could see all eight of the mercenaries, drawn away from their posts and rushing frantically around to try and put out the fires while an angry swarm of violated bees stung and attacked.

Grinning to herself, she dipped back beneath the water and made her way to land, following the fog all the way back to Riften.


	15. Chapter 15

The Cistern was quiet, well, as quiet as Ginna imagined a place with constant running water could ever be. Every bed was full, save for the one Rune had directed her to during her tour of the place, and neither Brynjolf or Mercer was anywhere to be found. She thought about heading out into the Ragged Flagon to find one of them, but she was tired and her gaze kept returning to that bed. It was an awful bed, and without even laying on it she could tell it reeked of mildew and moldy hay. The blankets covering it were threadbare and moth-eaten, and gods only knew who'd last slept in it.

She was just so tired. She just wanted to fall into a cocoon and sleep until she woke from the bad dream that had become her life. But there was no waking. The drop of water that splashed down on her forehead from above and then dripped down her cheek like a tear had to be some cruel joke from the Daedric Prince of discomfort and suffering. Or maybe Mephala… It truly felt as if some force beyond her control was poking fun at her from another realm.

Turning back toward the ladder, she climbed up into the cemetery again and made her way through the fog that wrapped around Riften like a cloak until she reached the Bee & Barb.

Marcurio was the only one in the place, aside from the saucy Argonian woman behind the counter, who glanced up and said, "If you're looking for a bed, it'll be ten septims."

Reaching into her brimming pockets, Ginna drew out ten gold and plunked it down on the counter. "I'll take it."

"Follow me, and I'll show you to your room."

"So, you changed your mind about my protection?" the mage asked hopefully, raising his eyebrows as she passed him.

"Go to Oblivion," she sneered over her shoulder, trudging up the steps until she stood outside the room Keerava assigned to her.

"It's yours for a day. If you need anything else, just let me know."

"Thank you," she closed the door and turned to give the room a once over. It was no House Dareloth, but it was better than the Cistern. Gods, a coffin in the ground would be better than the Cistern, probably drier too, she thought, dropping down onto the bed and peeling out of her still damp armor. She crawled under the warm blankets wearing nothing but her undergarments, and shifted and turned until she was comfortable enough to fall asleep.

She dreamed she was swimming in a vat of warm, golden honey, a cloud of bees buzzing overhead, occasionally swooping down to brush against her cheek, their tiny wings like soft, fluttering lips, buzzes turning into whispers full-bent on rousing her from the comfort of that thick, delicious honey bath.

"Sentimental and pampered… What kind of thief are you?" His thick brogue cut through the dream, and she jerked awake with a start, immediately reaching for the blade she'd placed under her pillow. It wasn't there, but she quickly caught sight of it glinting in his hand, a smug smile playing at his lips. "Looking for this?"

"Oh." She dropped back onto the pillow. "It's just you. For a minute there, I thought not paying Marcurio down there that 500 septims he so desperately needs to watch my ass was a big mistake."

"I'm sure he's got more than _watching_ your ass on his mind." Brynjolf smirked, lowering her blade to the table and drawing back to cross his arms. "And people say I'm a con artist. At least I'm straightforward about the things I want."

He may have been straightforward enough, but it didn't make him any less confusing. "What are you doing here?" She stifled a yawn into her arm, wincing a little as she brushed across the makeshift bandage she hadn't tended to after wrapping it the night before. "I had a long night and I could do with a few more hours sleep. What time is it, anyway?"

"Well after noon," he lifted his eyebrow. "Word on the streets is that Goldenglow's been hit. Good job, lass. I knew you wouldn't disappoint me."

"You had your doubts," she half-sat, reaching for her satchel on the floor.

"Of course I had doubts, but not in your abilities. The way things have been going around here…"

"Right, yes, bad luck, Guild's suffering, all that good stuff…" she cut him off, ignoring the slight drop of his mouth. She rifled through her loot until she came upon the bill of sale she'd retrieved from Aringoth's safe. "You might want to take a look at this. It was in the safe."

"Let me see." He reached out and took it from her, opening it up and squinting a little as he read over it. "Aringoth sold Goldenglow? What's that idiot thinking?"

"Apparently he's thinking with his pockets." She sat up the rest of the way, drawing the blankets up over her lap as she crossed her legs.

"He has no idea the extent of Maven's fury when she's been cut out of a deal, but I'm certain he'll find out soon enough… If only the parchment had the name of the buyer instead of this strange symbol. Any idea what this might be?" He held it back over for her to inspect again, and she studied that bizarre symbol with as much scrutiny as she'd lent it the night before.

"No clue," she finally shrugged, returning the bill of sale to him. "I thought it looked familiar when I first saw it, but I can't place it."

"Blast," he mumbled, folding it back up and sliding it into his inner pocket. "I'll check with my sources and speak to Mercer, see what I can uncover."

"All right then." She slouched down the wall and cuddled into the blankets again. "You do that."

He stared down at her, incredulous amusement furrowing his brow. "That's it? You do one job and you think you're done?"

"I never said I was done, I'm just tired. Even thieves need to sleep, and besides we work best in the shadows anyway."

"True, but why are you sleeping here? There's a bed for you in the Cistern. You don't need to waste your coin on this place…"

"Yeah, about that…" she nestled her head deeper into the pillow. "I can't sleep down there. It's… too loud," she lied. She had a feeling that telling him his home was too dirty for her to dwell in would only infuriate him, and as hard as she was playing with him then, she didn't want to hurt his feelings. He seemed proud of his Guild, even though it was struggling to hold onto the last threads keeping it from sinking to the bottom of Lake Honrich. "I tried last night, but the water… It just never stops running. I need quiet when I sleep."

"You really are spoiled," he shook his head, his gaze falling over her bandaged arm. His demeanor shifted and he knelt down beside bed, grabbing her hand to draw it over for inspection. "You're hurt?" He started to peel back the makeshift bandage to have a look.

"I'm fine," she tried to draw out of his grip. "It's just a scratch."

"It doesn't look like a scratch, lass. A cut like that's bound to get infected if it's not properly cared for. Come on, I know someone who can get you healed up nice and proper."

"I healed myself last night." She managed to wrench out of his grasp. "I'm fine, I told you."

"Sentimental, spoiled and stubborn," he pursed his lips together. "If you're not careful, lass, I'm like to bend you over my knee and give you a good thrashing."

"You promise?" She lifted her other hand up to brush a fallen lock of hair from his cheek.

She missed him; but how did one miss a person they barely knew well enough to even define the relationship they had? Was he her friend? Her lover? Somehow neither of those terms seemed to fit. Nevertheless, she missed his gentleness, missed waking up in his arms, missed the dominant way he'd roll her over and claim her in the morning.

"You look a little tired yourself," she noted, scooting over and patting the edge of the bed. "There's plenty of room in here for both of us if we lay just the right way and I've got the room for a few more hours. What do you say? You up for a little rough and tumble? I'll cuddle with you after."

He seemed to consider that offer for a moment, green eyes lighting with the promise of mischief and pleasure, but then they darkened again and he lowered his gaze. "Maybe another time, lass. I've got important things to do, and so do you. You're off to speak to Maven today. She's asked for you by name."

"Maven?" Was her mysterious benefactor finally going to call in her debt? "I thought I did the job just as she wanted?"

"Oh, no, nothing like that. You'll be calling on her for business."

"So, she's calling in the debt I owe her?"

"That's between you and Maven, and I prefer to keep it that way." He reached over and twined a gold lock of hair around his finger, curling and looping it as if he was having second thoughts about declining her offer. "Don't worry that pretty little head of yours about it. Maven's business dealings usually involve quite a bit of gold for her people, and even though you owe her a debt, if you do right by her, she'll more than compensate you for a job well done. Maybe even throw a few big jobs your way that'll have you sitting pretty, as befits one of your… particular tastes."

"Oh, speaking of compensation…"

He started to laugh. "Right, your pay for the Goldenglow job… You're smart as a whip, lass. Come by the Flagon and see me after you meet with Maven, and I'll make sure you get your cut. And from the looks of that satchel you've got down there… I'd say you're off to a pretty good start here in Riften, wouldn't you?"

It _was_heavy with coin and trinkets, jewels and baubles. She didn't know how much Tonilia would actually give her for it, but it was definitely a start. "It'll be enough to keep me cozy here in the Bee & Barb."

Rolling his eyes, he pushed back onto his heels. "I don't think I've never met a thief who liked to throw their money around the way you do."

"Maybe I'll take you to Cyrodiil someday and introduce you to my snake of a brother," she smirked, rising from where she'd lain and throwing the blankets to the side. That flash of bare skin had definitely intrigued him, but he was all business as he rose from the floor and headed toward the door.

"I'll take you up on that offer on one condition," he reached for the knob. "You let me hold him down while you run a dagger through his heart."

Ginna grinned. "It's a deal."

"Don't keep Maven waiting too long, lass. She doesn't like to be ignored."

So, she was finally going to meet Maven Black-Briar, the woman who'd dropped the coin into Erikur's pocket that got her out of prison. From what she'd learned so far, Maven was definitely not a woman she wanted against her, so despite her general disposition to make others uncomfortable, Ginna didn't make the woman wait. She dressed quickly, sighing with disappointment as she realized her guild armor was still damp from her dip in the lake, but she would just have to suck it up. She still had the fine clothes in her bag, but she wanted to look the roguish part when she finally met her benefactor.

Maven was waiting in a small room just down the hall in the Bee & Barb, sitting at the table there and leafing almost disinterestedly through a book spread open on the table. Ginna approached and cleared her throat, but the woman didn't look up right away, as if she delighted in making her wait.

Finally lifting her gaze, she surveyed Ginna for a moment, cold blue eyes scanning over every inch of her before she spoke. "Hmm… so, you're the one who's got Brynjolf all riled up. Yes, I remember you now. You don't look so impressive," she sneered.

"How about we skip the evaluation of each other's person, and get down to business. Brynjolf said you wanted to see me."

"Well," she crossed her arms, a flicker of intrigue in her gaze. "You're a little firebrand, aren't you? It's about time Brynjolf sent me someone with business sense. I was beginning to think he was running some sort of beggar's guild over there."

And Ginna thought she'd liked Vex… This Maven Black-Briar was her kind of woman. "You have no faith in the Guild?"

"Faith?" she scoffed a little. "I have faith in no one. All I care about is cause and effect. Did the job get done and was it done correctly? There's no grey area."

"I agree. And you won't have that problem with me."

"Good," she mused, rising from her chair. "I hope not. I have an important job for you. One that will not only wipe clean the debt you owe me, but put you at the top of the line for other jobs like it if you don't disappoint me."

"Where do I begin?"

"I have a competitor in Whiterun called Honningbrew Meadery, and I want to put them out of business."

"I'm listening."

"I also want to know how they managed to get the place up and running so quickly."

"And how would you like me to proceed?"

"Head to the Bannered Mare in Whiterun and meet with my contact there, a man by the name of Mallus Maccius. He'll fill you in on all the details."

Ginna was sure if she could have seen a reflection of her own face at that moment, all the color would have drained from it. Mallus? She knew he was in Skyrim, but to come in contact with him so quickly? She hadn't expected that, and yet she should have. Where there were underhanded dealings and treachery, he wasn't usually too far to be found. Still, she'd convinced herself quite some time ago that she was finished with him and had resolved with delight that she'd probably never see him again.

"Is there a problem?" Maven nudged her from her contemplation with her sharp tongue.

"No, lady," she lowered her head in respect. "I will head over to Whiterun straight away. Before I go, who's running the show over at Honninbrew?"

"Some layabout named Sabjorn. Been a thorn in my side for the last few years now."

"Sounds like more than a bit of friendly competition."

"Not a day goes by that I don't regret letting Sabjorn get as far as he did," Maven sighed. "In only a few short years, he's taken that bile he calls mead to market and a chunk of my profits with it! I can't imagine where he found the gold to take it to market so quickly."

"So get rid of him and he's no longer a threat."

"Exactly. With Sabjorn in prison, his meadery will be forced to close. Then, I swoop in and take over the place. No more competition."

"I like the way you think," Ginna told her. "But why strike now?"

"The Goldenglow Estate job has undoubtedly interrupted the supply of honey I need to make my mead. Sabjorn could use this interruption to his advantage and collect a larger share of the market. I can't have that."

"No," Ginna agreed. "I will take care of Sabjorn."

"Good, but one more time in case I wasn't clear… You butcher this job and you'll be sorry."

"I wouldn't dream of letting you down. I am in your debt."

"Yes, you are," she remembered, "but if you take care of this for me, I may find myself in yours and a Black-Briar always pays her debts."


	16. Chapter 16

As Ginna made her way through the Cistern, she was surprised by how quickly everyone's disposition toward her had changed. Those who had been less-than-enthusiastic to meet her the day before all went out of their way to pull her aside and let her know they respected her for what she'd done at Goldenglow. Rune grabbed her before her foot had even left the last rung of the ladder to tell her, "You're really good at what you do, and you're bringing a bit of glory to this place again. I just wanted to let you know, if you ever need anything I'm here for you." It was sweet, and for a moment she thought the thick casing of ice she'd packed her heart in had actually started to melt.

But most surprising was Vipir, who moved in front of her to block her passage just outside the door to the Flagon. "You're making waves around here, little girl. Good for you."

"Rune says you're some kind of master pickpocket," she said, no longer disguising her admiration.

"Maybe I am," he shrugged, but she thought she saw a small flash of pride in his dark eyes.

"I've always been keen on the fishing jobs myself. It's how I got started in this business."

"Is that so?" A thoughtful smile drew at the corners of his full mouth. "Maybe we can trade secrets sometime."

"Maybe."

Brynjolf was sitting at the bar in the Ragged Flagon with a mug of mead and Delvin on his right telling a story about the last job he'd been on when she walked in through the side entrance. She went straight to Tonilia, who was eating at one of the tables in the back, Vekel the Man lingering with his broom near the edge of the table.

"It's a good life, I know, but I just wish you'd slow down a little bit, Ton… let me make an honest woman of you."

"Give it a rest, would ya?" Tonilia barked over her shoulder. "I'm happy with the way things are. Why are you always trying to change them?"

"I just want to take care of you the way you deserve."

"I can take care of myself," she assured him, glancing up to see Ginna standing in the shadows over her shoulder.

Vekel followed her gaze, his upper lip curling with distrust. "So, you're Brynjolf's new protégé, huh? Don't look like much to me."

"Leave her alone, Vekel," Tonilia scowled. "You need something, kid?"

"I have some goods I want to trade with you for coin."

"I've got coin and I've got merchandise. Let's see if we can cut some kind of deal."

"Sounds fair," Ginna agreed, slipping into the seat across from her and lifting her bag onto the table. "You got any poisons?"

"Sister, have I got poisons?" Tonilia threw back her head and laughed, and then the two of them put their heads and their goods together to deal.

Ginna walked away with a lighter satchel and about six-hundred gold, but the golden Queen Bee statue she'd lifted from Aringoth's room was a special item, and Tonilia directed her to speak with Delvin about that. "He's a bit of a collector when it comes to rare goods, if you know what I mean."

On her way to talk to Delvin, Vex called out, "Hey, I've got plenty of work here, if you've got the spine for it."

"Got anything in Whiterun?"

"Actually, I do. We've got a client who needs to teach someone a bit of a lesson. I give you a jewel, you sneak in and plant it in their home and the rest is history. You interested?"

"Sure, I'm headed there anyway. I'd be glad for the extra work."

"Whatever. Here's the details. Just try not to make me look like an ass in front of the Guild."

She caught Brynjolf's gaze from across the Flagon, his eyes lowering slowly to inspect the mead at the bottom of his mug. He knew enough about her that he must have understood how hard it was for her to be clinging to the bottom rung again after looking down from the top for so long. Taking orders from Vex, who by all rights should have been her equal, wasn't easy at all. And yet he hadn't told anyone but Mercer the truth about who she was, or where she'd really come from. They all really thought he'd just plucked her up off the streets, and as difficult as it was to deal with starting over, she was glad he'd kept it to himself.

The gesture said something about him… she just wasn't quite sure what. _Trust me_, maybe?

"Delvin," she sidled up beside him and lifted her bag onto the bar. "Tonilia said you might be interested in this." Drawing out the statue for him to take a look, he leaned back in the chair and whistled appreciation.

"Well, well, would you get a look at that," he shook his head. "I've been looking to get my hands on this little beauty. Where'd you come across it?"

"Goldenglow Estate," she told him. "You interested in buying it?"

"Actually, I am. How's five-hundred gold sound?"

"It's a fair offer, I accept."

"Yeah, all righty then." He counted out the coin and slid it across the bar for her. She scooped it into her coinpurse and drew the strings tight before tucking it safely into her bag. It was the heaviest her purse had been since leaving Cyrodiil; a heavy feeling she would gladly carry. "Hey and if ya come across any other rare items like this in your… travels, give me first dibs on 'em, would ya?"

"Absolutely. Look, I'm headed over to Whiterun to take care of a bit of business. You wouldn't happen to have any jobs in that area in need of doing, would you?"

"I always got jobs in Whiterun need doing. What are you lookin' for? In the mood to correct some bookkeeping, maybe? Fishing? How about a little Bedlam?"

"I've always been fond of fishing," she said. "Nothing in the world quite like the inside of someone else's pocket."

"A lady after my own heart." He nudged his shoulder into her playfully, but Ginna cast her glance sidelong at Brynjolf, who rolled his eyes a little at the display and tipped his cup back again. "This mark's carrying around a heavy, valuable item one of our clients wants to get his hands on. What do you say, pet? Care to lighten the load?"

"I'll get it done," she assured him.

"Good, good." He pushed up from the barstool and reached for his statue. "Now if you'll all excuse me, I'm going to go admire this little beauty in private."

"Ugh, gross," Vex groaned.

Ginna climbed up onto the empty barstool, her short legs dangling as she scooted into place next to Brynjolf. "I haven't forgotten," he assured her. "Here's your cut, lass, just as I promised. You more than earned every coin." He pushed a heaping sack of gold across the bar.

"Thank you."

"How's your arm?" he asked, glancing down at the fresh bandage she'd wrapped it in before meeting with Maven.

"It'll heal."

"So, you're off to Whiterun then?"

"Aye," she nodded. "I don't suppose you could come along with me? Get out of the Cistern for a while, see the world?" _Keep me from falling into bed with Mallus Maccius like an idiot…_ She was headstrong and she really did loathe Mallus, but there had always been something about him she found impossible to resist. Not that Brynjolf would have cared, it seemed. She was obviously a free agent, not that she'd tricked herself into thinking otherwise. It was just… she didn't know what _it_ was, and that irritated her. She really, really liked the guy, and even though she'd put a nice buffer between them on the road from Solitude, he'd managed to break through some of her barriers. It was her own fault for thinking whatever game they'd been playing was more than just a game.

"Nothing would please me more, but…" But it seemed their little tryst was over and she'd just have to deal with it. "I'm afraid I'm needed here right now. I was away too long in Solitude…"

"Right, well, it never hurts to ask," she sighed. "Maybe I'll go hire Marcurio to travel with me." She started to push off the stool again, hopping to the floor. "Skyrim's a dangerous and savage place and I don't know my way around. A girl could find herself in need of protection and apparently he can roast my enemies with destruction magic for the low, low fee of five-hundred septims."

He winced a little before turning his gaze in her direction, but she couldn't tell if she'd made him jealous, or if the thought of dropping five-hundred gold on a mercenary made him feel a little squeamish. "There you go throwing around your hard-earned money again when you have perfectly good Guild resources at your disposal." He pushed his mug across the bar with two septims and motioned for Vekel to fill it again. "You know, Rune would gladly travel with you for half what that blow-hard mage at the Bee & Barb is charging, and you wouldn't have to listen to his incessant bragging all the way to Whiterun and back. He's skilled with a blade and he tells a fine tale by the fire."

"Rune's a good kid," she decided.

"Indeed, he is." He shrugged. "It's just a suggestion, lass. It's your coinpurse. You do what you want with it."

"Don't worry, I will," she assured him, walking away.

She was halfway through the hall beyond the secret panel when she heard footsteps behind her. Turning around, she was surprised to see him standing there, a familiar shine in his eyes that immediately reminded her of the jewel tucked safely in the pocket of her breeches. "Ginna," he started, shifting uncomfortably where he stood. "I just wanted to say thanks."

Her upper lip curled. "For what?"

"Lending your efforts here, pulling off that job at Goldenglow," he said. "I know you could have left me high and dry after I sprang you, but you didn't, and that means something."

"I may be a thief, but I still have honor. I owed you a debt."

"I know," he nodded, lifting his hand to rest on her shoulder. "And now that debt has been repaid, but you're still here, taking on part of the workload… so, thank you." His hand hovered there a moment, fingers curling into the muscle as his eyes searched out her face. The corner of his mouth twitched a little, and Ginna felt her stomach tighten like a fist. It was better not to react, she kept telling herself as that fist unclenched and softened inside her. It was better to remain cold, to not give in to the range of up and down emotion he was stirring inside her. "I still believe you and I could do incredible things together, lass. Turn this bad luck streak around, take the world by storm."

"Yeah," she lowered her eyes. "We'll see."

"Yeah," he nodded. "We will see. In the meanwhile, tread careful on the road to Whiterun. I'll see you when you get back. Maybe I'll have time to take you up on that offer for a little rough and tumble."

"Yeah," she shrugged out from under his hand. "See you around, Brynjolf."

She stepped into the Cistern, stomping down the confusion of emotion rising up inside her with every footstep. So far, it didn't seem like they were doing much of anything together. He was sitting in the Ragged Flagon, deep in his cups and claiming to be incredibly busy, while she was heading out to get things done. She knew her debt to Maven was hers and hers alone, but…

_But nothing_. It was her debt. She would pay it, and she didn't need anyone else's help to do so. It just would have been nice to be alone with him again, to observe the way they were together with a more careful eye and maybe get a handle on what she was feeling. She'd never felt so confused in regards to a man in her life. Men were either a means to an end, or well… that was it. Life wasn't a fairytale and she knew it. People didn't really fall in love and ride off into the sunset together with the promise of happy ever after. It was unrealistic to the point of absurdity.

"Hey." Rune glanced up from where he'd knelt near the cooking fire to warm his hands against the damp and chill, the sound of his greeting kicking her back to the moment. "Good to see you." He smiled.

"Brynjolf said you might be interested in making a bit of coin," she started.

She watched his face light up. "I'm always interested in making coin. What'd you have in mind?"

"I just need a travel companion. I'm heading over to Whiterun to take care of a bit of business, but I'm still so new to this land. I barely know my way around. Wanna come along? There's two-fifty gold in it for you."

"Sure, I'd be happy to." He pushed up from where he'd crouched and dusted off his pants. "When did you want to leave?"

"As soon as you're ready. I'll meet you out by the stables?"

"Sounds good."

Ginna climbed up through the cemetery and closed the tomb behind her before stepping out into the misty afternoon sun. For a minute, she just stood and watched the priestess at the statue of Tiber Septim, lifting her arms in praise and then picking up her feet, she turned right and headed out into the piers of Riften toward the gate. Maybe if she found a Temple of Dibella, or stopped in to receive Mara's blessing, it would give her enough piece of mind to help let go of her reservations and just experience whatever was going on inside her. Or maybe it would just make everything that much more complicated.


	17. Chapter 17

Rune was a good travel companion; Brynjolf had been right about that much. He was quiet on the road, but not in a way that made her uncomfortable, and spoke animatedly around the fire whenever they made camp. He told stories about growing up in Solitude, learning to fish from the man he'd called his father almost as long as he could remember.

"But that life just wasn't for me," he shrugged, poking a stick he'd been peeling the bark from into the fire's depths until the flame caught. "I wanted more. Adventure, glory… But finding adventure and glory is an expensive task and my father couldn't afford to give me the things I sought, so I started taking them."

"Is he still alive?"

"My father?" his gaze rested on the fire for a long time before he nodded. "I try to get up there to see him once a year, but he wasn't exactly young when he found me and it's tough to say how much longer he has in this world. I send him what little money I can, try to make sure he's taken care of, but he's a proud man. He doesn't like that I give up my hard-earned gold taking care of him."

"Does he know… what you do, I mean?"

"That I'm a thief?" he chuckled. "No, no. He thinks I'm a treasure hunter. Though I guess in some ways that's not entirely false."

"So, how did you wind up in Riften?" she asked, sipping from a bottle of Black-Briar mead before offering it to him. "If you don't mind me asking."

"Not at all." He accepted the offer, tipping it back for a few swallows before returning it. "That's a funny story, actually… I was making a delivery for my father into Solitude when I spied Brynjolf lingering outside the Winking Skeever. He was dressed in the finest clothes, had a few shiny rings on his fingers and the most beautiful ebony dagger hanging from his belt. I was only about seventeen at the time, had been dabbling in the art now and again, but in no way was I an experienced pickpocket. All that wealth though… he just reeked of it, and I wanted a taste, so I decided to check out his pockets. That was where he caught me."

"He caught you trying to pickpocket him?"

"He did," he laughed a little, a sheepish grin drawing at the corners of his mouth. "He turned around and said he didn't swing that way, as plain as if he knew me and then he told me if I wanted to learn how to pick a pocket right and proper, I should come with him. I was terrified, to tell the truth. I'd never gotten caught before, and I thought he was going to take me into an alley and split my belly open, but instead he sat me down in the Winking Skeever, bought us both a pint of ale and pointed out the easiest, most profitable mark in the room. He said if I could come back to him with what was in that man's pockets, he'd split it with me fair and square. So I watched and I waited, and when the opportunity was ripe, I hit the target. Guy was carrying more gold than I'd ever seen all in one place, and when I brought it back to Brynjolf, he told me I did well as he split it down the middle and gave me my share. Then he asked if I was serious about becoming a thief and… well… the rest is history."

"That's quite a story." She leaned back and lifted her face to the sky. The stars were so clear in Skyrim, something she rarely saw in Cyrodiil, even though she spent the majority of her time prowling the dark streets.

"How did you meet Bryn?"

Still staring up at the stars, she thought back to that night and it felt like it had been so long ago. The way his body had felt against hers as they drifted and swayed across the marbled Embassy floors. His whisper as he leaned in and said she smelled of cherry blossoms. "He came up to me at a party and asked me if I wanted to dance."

She was quiet so long after that, Rune just shifted and said, "Oh," as if her admission were somewhat anticlimactic.

"Turns out we were on the same job." She finally lowered her head and sat up straight again. "Only I'd been set up. Someone wanted me to take the fall. He didn't know. He was just as confused as I was when we both went for the prize. There we were rolling around on the floor with our blades drawn when the Embassy guards busted in to arrest me."

"Wow."

"He and Maven convinced one of the Thanes in Solitude to let me go, and I now owe them, so… here I am."

Rune didn't say anything at first, just shook his head and folded his hands together between his crossed legs. "Why would someone do that to you?"

"I don't want to talk about it." She'd already said too much, something she'd been doing a lot of since she met Brynjolf. Rune was a sweet kid; she could sense that and it wasn't that she didn't want to trust him, but these people… They were tugging on strings she hadn't even known she had. It brought the emotions she'd been trying so hard to fight back to the surface again, and until she could actually do something about it, it seemed better to just push them back down and let them fester inside her.

"Oh, hey, that's okay," he nodded. "I didn't mean to pry."

"You weren't prying." She lifted a soft smile in his direction to let him know she wasn't offended. "Just making conversation. Maybe someday I'll tell you the rest of the story. Just not tonight."

"All right," he agreed. "If you want to catch some sleep, I'll take first watch."

The journey to Whiterun took four days, bringing them to the gates just around noon. The Stormcloak guard outside eyed them suspiciously and warned them not to cause trouble in his city before allowing them passage. Whiterun was a quaint, almost old-world establishment with a lot more charm than Riften. Though the houses were modest against the backdrop of the great longhouse and palace at the top of the hill, they felt cozy enough and she was glad she'd have the opportunity to get a look at the inside of one of them when she planted Vex's stolen jewel.

But first, she had to find Mallus and get Maven's ball rolling in the right direction. Maven said he would be waiting for her at the Bannered Mare, which Rune pointed out as they walked up the hillside into the small circle of merchants selling wares.

"I have to meet my client," she explained, stopping near the corner post. "Can you wait for me?"

"Sure, yeah. I have a bit of business to take care of myself. How about I meet you back here in a little while?"

"Sounds good."

They parted ways, Rune heading left up the stairs into the Wind District and Ginna walking straight into the Bannered Mare. There were a fair number of people inside, all of whom turned their immediate attention to the stranger in the doorway, but she ignored them and went straight to the bar to order a pint. The bard near the hearth started playing a bawdy tune and the tavern owner greeted her with a warm, welcoming smile.

"Come on in and make yourself at home. Just stoked the fire."

"I'll have a pint of mead."

"We've got Honningbrew on tap. Will that do?" the barkeep asked, drawing out a mug and setting it up on the counter.

"Sure, yeah," she nodded, glancing around for signs of Mallus.

"New in town, are you?"

"Just passing through." She didn't make eye contact, but dropped her coin on the counter and grabbed her mug to find a quiet place to wait.

She was passing the side room behind the hearth when she spotted him, seated alone at a table in the back room. He looked the same, his hair a little longer than she remembered, though the simple clothes he wore didn't do him justice at all. She'd never seen him without the finest noble clothing her money could buy… well, that wasn't entirely true, but then those clothes were usually crumpled at the foot of her bed when he wasn't wearing them.

He didn't look up when she approached, so quietly he didn't hear her at first. She cleared her throat to catch his attention and without even looking back he barked, "Can't a man enjoy a drink in peace around here? I swear…"

"Hello, Mallus," she cooed, sliding comfortably into the chair across from him and lowering her mug to the table as she leaned back and crossed one leg over the other.

The sound of her voice caught him off guard, and his cold blue eyes widened, a sharp hint of malice wrapped in strange warmth. "Ginna? By the Eight, what are you doing here? I'd heard…"

"That I was in prison?" she tested.

"Actually, yes." He leaned forward, intrigued by the unexpected turn of events. "They're saying Brutus took you out because of what you did to Severus."

Her whole demeanor shifted; even she felt it. Ginna squinted curiously and leaned forward herself, her hand resting instinctively on the hilt of her dagger. "What do you mean? What I did to Severus? What has Brutus been telling people?"

"Slow-acting poison. He said you'd been feeding it to him for years in order to take over his position as Guildmaster. You always were a little mynx, and I had my suspicions you were fucking the old man all along. I mean, why else would he have favored you so? But I never thought you had it in you to kill him, to be honest. Bravo, my girl." He clapped his hands together, lips drawing into an appreciative grin that not so long ago would have stirred an ache inside her only his touch could soothe. "Bravo!"

But those words were like a punch in the gut, and for a moment she couldn't even breathe. "Brutus is… he's telling people I killed Severus?" she gasped.

"You mean you didn't?" The appreciation drained from his face, only to be replaced by unveiled apathy. "I should have known it was too good to be true. You may have been a little mynx, but killing was never your thing. Anyway," he waved off their conversation as if it had no importance at all, but to Ginna it meant everything. "What are you doing here? I'm very busy making a new life for myself and as wonderful as it is to see you again, I'd rather not get involved in your twisted, petty family affairs."

What _was_ she doing there? She had to think for a moment, but her mind was suddenly a complete mess she could barely make heads or tails of. Brutus setting her up was one thing; an unforgivable thing, yes, but him telling people she'd murdered their Guild-father? That was beyond unforgivable. Why? He'd already humiliated her, but to start such a vicious lie… He really was trying to destroy her. Among thieves there was no act more unforgivable than disrespecting one's Guildmaster, but murdering someone in your own Guild… well, that was a crime no thief could ever be absolved from.

Mallus was starting to rise from the table to leave her with her gaping jaw when she remembered why she was there. "Maven said you'd be expecting me."

"Maven?" his high brow wrinkled with intrigue. "So you're working for Maven Black-Briar now? And the plot thickens… I suppose that would explain how you managed to escape custody so quickly."

"Yes." She didn't have time to dwell on her shock, even though it was all she could feel. "I'm working for Maven Black-Briar today, and she said you would fill me in on the plot to get rid of her rival."

"Hmm, interesting," he nodded. "All right. I'm going to keep this short then because we have a lot of work to do and not near enough time to do it in."

"Fine, what's the plan?"

"Honningbrew's owner, Sabjorn, is about to hold a tasting for Whiterun's Captain of the Guard, and we're going to poison the mead."

"You have the poison?"

"No, no. That's the beauty of the whole plan. We're going to get Sabjorn to give it to us himself." His malicious grin had always gotten under her skin in ways she couldn't define. Whenever he would fire it across the room at her, it lit a lustful inferno in her so strong that before long their clothes were little more than a trail of thread leading to the bedroom. But after what he'd told her about Brutus, his devious smile only served to increase the nausea in her gut. "The meadery has quite a pest problem, and everyone in the city knows about it. Pest poison and mead don't mix well, if you know what I mean."

"Right, so how do I fit into this?"

"Well, you're just going to happen by Honningbrew and lend poor Sabjorn a helping hand. He's going to give you the poison to get rid of the pests, but you're also going to dump it into the brewing vats."

She couldn't deny it was a good plan. "Clever."

"Thanks," he grinned again. "Maven and I spent weeks planning this. All we need now is someone like you to go in there and get the job done."

"Why not you? You've done worse. Oh wait, I forgot… That's actual work."

His laughter was forced and fake, echoing through the Bannered Mare and turning a few curious heads in their direction. He didn't speak again until they went back to their business, but he'd lowered his voice. "I'd be the first person he'd suspect, you silly twit. I've been working for Sabjorn for months now. Gods, I'm practically a slave… the things he makes me do. I've worked my fingers to the bone for that man, and all so I could get close to him, make him trust me. You know as well as I do, the right-hand man is always the first to take the fall when things run afoul." Didn't she know it. "I won't be anywhere near the place when this goes down, keeping my reputation and my association clean. And once he's in jail and Maven can take over the meadery, who's going to run Black-Briar West? You're looking at him, sweet girl. I'll be set up for life."

"Of course." There was always more to his story than he was telling, but Ginna wasn't in the mood for one of his intricate webs. She just wanted to get on with it, get the job done and get as far away from Mallus Maccius as she could. Gods only knew when he'd contact Brutus and let him know where she was. That kind of information always paid well, and set up for life, or not, Mallus had never been one to turn away an opportunity to stab someone in the back for a coinpurse—as long as he didn't have to get any of the blood on his hands. "It seems you've got it all figured out then. When is this tasting at Honningbrew?"

"Tomorrow morning, so you better get on it before Sabjorn grows a brain and hires someone else to do the dirty work."

"And how do I get into the brewing vats?"

"Both of the buildings are connected by tunnels the pests infesting the meadery dug through. There's an entrance in the basement storeroom that used to be boarded over. I've already removed the boards so the meadery would get infested. That's where you should start."

"All right," she started to rise from the chair, surprised that her legs actually worked. She felt weak in the knees, and it had nothing to do with Mallus. She was still stunned, but she had to get her head together and get this job done right for Maven before turning her attention to Brutus. "I'll get over there and dampen old Sabjorn's spirits. Is there anything else I should know? Anything you're not telling me?"

For a moment, Mallus leveled his bright blue eyes at her as if the question she'd just asked him had hurt his feelings. She knew better. He didn't have feelings. "Only that I'm so delighted to see you again, my dear girl. I know we didn't exactly part on the best of terms, but there will always be an empty place in my heart where you used to dwell… Even though you ran me out of town."

"I'm not the one who ran you out of town, but I was glad to see you go." She turned away from the table and started walking back into the bar.

"You always were a cold-hearted bitch," he called after her, laughing. "It's one of the things I loved about you."

She thought of a thousand unpleasant things to say over her shoulder to him, but decided it wasn't the time or the place to dredge up anymore bad energy. She had a job to do; an important job.

Her emotions were already tangled like a big ball of electric fire in her gut, and she needed to push them deep down inside her in case they started to unravel. Pushing through the doors of the pub, she scanned the merchant circle and saw Rune near one of the food carts, buying apples and chatting with a beautiful Imperial woman.

The woman seemed taken by him, her eyes shining with interest, but he was oblivious to her charms, or maybe he was just a gentleman. Spotting Ginna, he thanked her for the apples and took the small sack she handed over for him to carry them in.

"Did you finish your business?" he asked as he approached, biting into one of the apples with a fierce snap of his teeth.

"No, but I got the details I need to get started. I'll fill you in once we're outside the city, and if you want to take a back seat and wait for me here at the inn, I'll completely understand."

"Okay," he shrugged.

She explained what she was doing on the walk to Honningbrew Meadery, Rune listening carefully and weighing out all the details. "I'm sure if the place is as rife with skeevers as he says it is, it'll be a bit dangerous. They're venomfangs, vicious little batards… If you don't want to get involved—"

"Sounds easy enough," he agreed.

"I'll give you a few extra septims. It's only fair."

"You don't have to do that. I came along to help in any way I can."

"Thanks, Rune." She didn't realize she'd sighed, but she did. A long deflation of her lungs that sagged her shoulders a little as they walked.

"Hey, Ginna, I can't help but notice you seem a little off." Was it that obvious? She'd always been so good at hiding her emotions, keeping them bottled up tight inside her where they could fester and grow like a vicious disease that ate away at her. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, it's nothing," she shook her head. "Just bad memories getting me down."

"I'm here if you ever want to talk."

"Thanks, Rune. Maybe after this is all done. Right now I just want to focus on this job."

"I understand. I just wanted you to know that you can talk to me."

She didn't know why, but she believed him. That was a first… someone she actually felt like she could trust, and as much as she hated to admit it, she was finding herself in desperate need of someone to confide in and share her burden with.

Rune was just… well, Rune. He didn't put on airs, or try to impress anyone. He didn't brag or play things tough. Still, she couldn't help but wonder what he'd think of her if he actually knew the whole story. And Brynjolf… if Brutus's rumors made it to Riften, how long before his unfailing trust in her began to dwindle and he forced her out onto the streets to deal with her issues alone?

Gods, her life was such a mess. But there was no time to dwell on it then. She had work to do.


	18. Chapter 18

Sabjorn was, for lack of a better term, a jackass. The minute Ginna and Rune walked into Honningbrew Meadery, he barked at them like a vicious dog, asking if they'd come to gawk and mock his misery. Ginna immediately loathed him, which made it easy to put on her sweetest and most sympathetic face as she offered to lend a helping hand.

"Oh, wonderful," he rolled his eyes. "And I don't suppose you'd just do it out of the kindness of your heart, would you?"

"No, sir, I would ask you to pay me the same as you would pay any other worker you might hire to do such a job."

"Well, I hope you're not expecting to get paid until the job's done."

"Sorry," she started to turn toward the door. "That's the only way I operate."

"Wait," he cried out. "Wait, all right. I'll pay you half now and half once you complete the job. Here, this should keep you tided over." He handed her a heavy bag of gold, which she weighed in her hands and then nodded satisfaction. "You'll get the other half when I know the job is done. My only demand is that these vermin are permanently exterminated before my reputation is completely destroyed."

"How would you like me to do this then?"

"I bought some poison. I was going to have my lazy, good-for-nothing assistant, Mallus, take care of it, but he seems to have vanished." He obviously hadn't looked very far for him, but she couldn't help the slow grin that drew at the corners of her mouth in hearing the words lazy, good-for-nothing and Mallus in the same sentence. "If you plant the poison in the vermin's nest, it should keep them from ever coming back."

"I can handle that."

"Here, you'll need this key to get into the storage area." He handed over the key and then said, "Don't come back until every one of those vermin is dead. Do I make myself clear?"

"As a crystal, sir," she agreed, taking the poison and turning to Rune, who followed her into the meadery to begin the journey downward. "I'll split the reward with you," she told him, opening the door into the storage area. She hadn't even though about that when she'd been talking with Mallus, and the six hundred gold Sabjorn had given her was more than she expected. If he actually got to pay her the remainder of what he owed her, that'd leave both of them with a heavy chunk of coin to split, and she knew Rune could use the money to further his never ending search for the truth about his identity.

The skeevers infesting Honningbrew Meadery were a rare breed known as the venomfang, and a bite from one of them promised an intense sickness the attacked might not come back from. An attack by a pack of them was death, plain and simple. Hacking their way through wasn't easy, and both Rune and Ginna were actually a little relieved when they stumbled into a nest of frostbite spiders. The spiders were easy enough to quash, but no sooner had they wiped them out, than did another host of angry skeevers reappear, frothing and vicious and ready to fight to the death.

They followed the tunnel down into a deep cavern beneath the earth to search for their nest, but it wasn't just skeevers that greeted them there. A raving, mad mage came charging out of the darkness shooting long streams of shock magic that knocked Rune back and almost stunned Ginna completely.

"Son of a bitch!" she muttered, summoning her healing until every bit of her magicka had drained. A detail Mallus had neglected to mention; how very like him. For a moment she actually wondered if her being there was all part of a much more intricate plot, that maybe Brutus had contacted Maven Black-Briar and it was a way to take care of her more quietly. She'd be buried and lost there in the depths of that cellar if she didn't find a way to fight back.

Quickly scanning through her mind for some spell she could use, Rune rose up to stand behind her and said something she didn't quite hear. An inexplicable calm washed over her, and the insane mage dropped his hands, the magic fizzling out until only the remnants of sparks could be seen flashing between his fingertips. Rune walked slowly toward the man and reached out his hands, resting them on the sides of his face as if he were talking to an old, trusted friend, and then with a swift jerk he snapped the mage's his neck and Ginna watched him crumple to the earthen floor.

A band of skeevers raced in to inspect and gnaw upon the body, and Rune turned back toward her. "Are you all right?"

"I think so." She took the hand he offered and with a quick tug he pulled her to her feet. "What was that?"

"I don't know," he shrugged. "Just something I've always been able to do. I can calm people with my voice."

"Voice of the Emperor." She'd seen it used before, growing up in Cyrodiil, and had always envied the pureblood Cyrodiilians who'd been born with such unique and beautiful power. She'd once watched Severus calm an entire gathering of people, who hadn't even noticed she was walking around stealing their valuables right from under the noses. She'd gotten nothing from her parents, except maybe her deep-seated resentment and trust issues, but both of Rune's parents must have come from Cyrodiil, which for some reason only seemed to lend more strength to his father's story about a shipwreck near Solitude. Maybe they were royals, and Rune was some lost heir to the Empire. Wouldn't that be something?

"That's what Vex called it," he nodded. "I don't use it very often, only when I'm in a real bind, but it seemed like we were in a bit of a bind just now."

"Rune, you could be an assassin with skills like that," she chuckled. "Thank you."

She thought he actually blushed a little, shuffling his feet uncomfortably while she took a moment to gather her strength.

They delved deeper until they came upon the skeevers' nest. She sprinkled the poison all around it, reserving more than half of it to drop into the mead vats. Finding their way into the boilery was easy, they found the tunnel the skeevers had dug and slipped up into through the basement, which was open, just as Mallus had promised it would be. Sneaking quietly up the stairs, she opened the vat and poured the poison in.

Sabjorn was probably even less appreciative than he'd been when they showed up, and told her he wouldn't pay her the rest of what he owed her until after the tasting, when he knew for sure the problem had been taken care off. Ginna wanted to crush him like the little bug he was, but instead she took satisfaction in knowing he would get what was coming to him.

"I'll be back tomorrow morning to collect what you owe me," she assured him before stepping out into the rain.

"It's always rains in Whiterun," Rune noticed, lifting his head to the dark sky.

"Does it?"

"It does every time I'm here."

"Come on, let's go get something to eat at the Bannered Mare."

They spent their night indoors, feasting on spiced venison and baked potatoes, which Rune said were probably the best potatoes he'd ever had in his life. They rented a room from the innkeep, and split their night in half. Rune slept while Ginna went to take care of the jobs she'd gotten from Delvin and Vex, and when she returned, he sat on the balcony outside the room watching the door. For what purpose, she didn't know, but she was kind of glad he'd offered to do it.

Knowing she was in the same town with Mallus offered little in the way of comfort, but with Rune watching her back, she almost felt safe. She didn't sleep for a long time after she laid down. She couldn't stop thinking about what Mallus had said. Brutus telling the guild, and apparently anyone else who would listen, that she'd poisoned the Grey Fox; Severus had died of old age and sickness… hadn't he?

His illness had been no sudden thing, but an enduring darkness that grew over time until at long last it had consumed him… like a subtle poison in the blood. Lifting her hand into her hair, she rolled onto her side and drew up her legs until she was tucked into an almost fetal position. Had Brutus hated Severus so much that he would actually kill him? It didn't seem possible, but then she'd never thought he'd hated her enough to do the things he was doing to her either.

Rune was still sitting in the chair on the balcony when she opened the door the next morning, a closed book in his lap and his eyes rested firmly on the entrance into the Bannered Mare. "Sleep well?" he asked thoughtfully.

"As well as I ever do," she shrugged.

After breaking their fast, they headed over the Honningbrew to collect the rest of their pay from Sabjorn. She had a feeling the bag of gold in her satchel was all she'd get from that man; mostly she just wanted to be there when he went down. It'd feel good watching someone else take a fall, especially someone as rude as Sabjorn.

He was pacing the floors and wringing his hands when they walked in, while Commander Caius lingered near the mead barrels alongside the bar. Mallus was sitting patiently at the table in the corner, and as Ginna walked by, he grinned with unbridled excitement and told her, "Gods, I can't wait to see Sabjorn squirm."

"I think that's the first thing we've had in common for a long time," she crossed her arms and stepped up to the bar. "I'm here for the rest of my pay."

"Not now," Sabjorn shooed her away. "After the tasting, I'll give you the rest of your money, now just go away."

"I'm not going anywhere without that money, so I'll just take a seat over there and wait."

"I suppose you can wait around, if you must, but you'll just have to wait until after the captain's finished. Just stay out to of the way."

She took a seat at the table with Mallus, but Rune lingered near the door beside her, watching it all unfold with his arms crossed.

"Well, Sabjorn, now that you've taken care of that little pest problem, let's get a taste of your mead." Commander Caius stepped up to lift one of the mugs, ready for his first taste.

"Help yourself, milord. It's one of my finest brews yet. I call it Honningbrew Reserve. I think you'll find it quite pleasing to your palate."

"Oh, come now. This is mead. Not some wine to be sipped and savored."

Sabjorn watched with hopeful eyes as the commander filled his mug to brimming, and then lifted it to smell before drawing the edge to his lips. He tipped it back, taking several swallows, but then he gagged and gasped, slamming the mug down onto the bar.

"By the Eight! What is in this?"

"I…" Sabjorn stammered. "I don't know. What's wrong?"

"You assured me this place was clean! I… I'll see to it that you remain in irons for the rest of your days!"

"No, please. I… I don't understand."

"Silence, you idiot. I should have known better to trust this place after it's been riddled with filth."

Ginna and Mallus exchanged glances, and for a moment she actually smiled at him.

"Please, I beg you. This is not what it seems."

Commander Caius began walking toward them, and for a moment Ginna felt a hitch in her gut. "You," he pointed at Mallus. "You're in charge here until I get this all sorted out."

"Of course, milord." Mallus rose from the chair. "It would be my pleasure."

"And you… You're coming with me to Dragonsreach. We'll see how quickly your memory clears in the city's prison. Now, move!"

"Look," Sabjorn tried in desperation to appeal to the man's sense of forgiveness. "I assure you, this is all just a huge misunderstanding."

Caius drew his blade and growled, "I said move!"

The three of them watched as the commander led Sabjorn out of the Honningbrew, and when the door closed at his back, Mallus turned toward dusting his hands as he said, "Farewell, Sabjorn."

"Well, there goes the rest of our money." Ginna sighed and glanced over at Rune, he didn't know what to say, so he said nothing.

"I'm sure Maven will see that you're well compensated," Mallus said. "I don't think that could have gone any better. Do you?"

"It was almost too easy," she admitted.

"Almost," he agreed. "You and I always worked well together, didn't we?"

"I always did all the work and you took all the credit," she sneered. "It would seem nothing's changed."

"Well, you were the one with all the talent. Is there anything else you need before you head back to Riften?"

"Yeah, I need to get a look at Sabjorn's books."

"Of course," he nodded, reaching into his pocket. "So, Maven wants to hunt down Sabjorn's private partner, then?"

"You'll have to ask Maven what she wants. I was just asked to look at the books."

"Well, you're welcome to take a look around Sabjorn's office. He keeps most of his private papers stashed in the desk. You'll need this key."

"Thanks," she snatched it out of his palm and started toward the doors that led upstairs. "Oh, by the way, you never mentioned the lunatic living in the tunnels. Doing a little side work for Brutus?"

"Of course not." He looked away uneasily and then brought his gaze back to meet with hers. "I just thought it would be better to leave some of the details out of our previous discussion. Didn't want you walking away from the job before it was finished."

"I've never walked away from a job and you know it."

"Besides," he went on. "You did Maven a favor, getting rid of him, and saved me a lot of coin having to hire someone else to do it later."

"You owe my friend here compensation," she gestured to Rune. "He's the one who took care of your little problem and I think you should pay him for his efforts. Five-hundred gold should just about cover it."

"Five-hundred gold? Are you out of your mind?"

"Come on, Mallus. It's not like you can't afford it now. Pay the man."

She walked away, heading up the stairs. She rifled through all of Sabjorn's belongings, taking everything of value she could find before unlocking his desk and sifting through his paperwork until she found what she was looking for. The promissory note did not name the silent partner, but she recognized the name Gulum-Ei, who had also acted as a go-between in the selling of Goldenglow Estate, and that same bizarre symbol marked the top of the note. She stuffed it into her satchel, wondering if Brynjolf had had any luck with his contact, and then scanned the shelves, her eye catching a beautiful gold decanter she was sure Delvin would be interested in. She took everything of value in Sabjorn's rooms, making sure not to leave anything behind for Mallus. He wouldn't need it if Maven Black-Briar was adding him to her permanent payroll.

"Did you find what you were looking for?" Mallus asked when she came back into the room slinging her bag over her shoulder.

"Maybe," she shrugged. The less he knew, the better she would feel about things. If Maven wanted to share more of the details with him, that was her business.

"Look, Ginna," he started, leaning back against the bar. "Ginna, Ginna, Ginna… there doesn't have to be all this bad blood between us anymore. We're friends, and friends should help each other."

"We aren't friends, Mallus. We've never been friends."

"You hurt me," he sighed. "I know you think I'm the enemy, but you don't have to worry about me running back to Brutus and telling him where you are. In fact, I want to help you as much as I can while I'm here. Especially if you really did have nothing to do with that business Brutus is accusing you of."

"That man was like a father to me." She clenched her teeth together so tight when she said that, a bit of spittle flew from her lips. "I would never have done anything to harm him and you know that."

"And I believe you." She couldn't tell if he believed her, or not. She really didn't care. "If you're in the area, and you ever need anything fenced, I'm your man, all right? I'll give you good deals on any stolen merchandise you bring me."

"Yeah, all right."

"And if you ever wanna… you know, pick up where we left off in Cyrodiil… Well, the nights here are long and cold and I could always use a body to keep me warm."

She actually laughed as she turned away from him. "In your dreams, Mallus." It was the first time she'd actually walked away from him without a twinge of regretful desire. In that moment, she just wanted to get as far away from him as she could.

She opened the door and stepped outside, the late-morning rain tapering off to a slow drizzle. "Does it really always rain in Whiterun?" she looked over her shoulder at Rune.

He just shrugged and offered her a soft smile. "Every time I'm here."


	19. Chapter 19

Rune had overheard enough of her conversation with Mallus that she kept expecting him to ask her about it. Anyone else would have, but he just kept quiet on the road, only talking when she asked him a question, or when he seemed to be going out of his way to lighten the mood. It was kind of strange, but it pushed her just that much closer to giving in and trusting him.

"Hey, did you know if a thief steps into the shadow of a dragon flying overhead, he's supposed to have three years good luck?" he asked, and when she glanced back at him, she saw he'd stopped and shielded his eyes with his hand to look up at the grey, clouded sky above.

She'd never met anyone like Rune, and she'd known a lot of people in her lifetime. Some good people, some bad, some interesting and some boring, but never anyone quite like Rune. He was almost innocent to the point of naivete, and yet she knew for a fact he was absolutely lethal. Why couldn't Brutus have been more like him? She would have killed to grow up with a guildbrother like Rune.

"Never heard that one," she said.

"Well, Delvin says so anyway," he drew up his shoulders and lowered his gaze, arm dropping at his side, "but the only dragons I've ever seen have already been on the ground and I didn't want to get close enough to try and step into their shadow."

"Delvin's full of all kinds of superstitions," she mused. "Tell me something, Rune." She waited until he started walking again, catching up with her before she went on. "What do you think of Delvin's whole theory about the Guild being cursed?"

"That's a good question," he decided. "And one that I actually find myself contemplating often, but unlike Bryn, Mercer and Delvin, even Vex, I haven't been at this long enough to recall the Guild's glory days. I mean, as long as I can remember it was always just take enough to get by. Anything more than that felt like a risk, but to hear Delvin tell it, taking risks was all part of the big pay-off in the past. Now, it's like an invitation for failure."

"But do you think it's some kind of curse?"

"It could be. I just don't know. I find myself erring on the side of caution though, just in case."

"Yeah…" she sighed. "Look, you said I could talk to you, right?"

"Of course."

"I mean really talk? Hardcore personal stuff that I don't exactly want getting around the Guild right now? I'm just not ready for that, yet."

"I'm no gossip, if that's what you're asking."

"I didn't think you were," she smiled across the space between them and then looked back toward the road. "I think I might be cursed."

"Cursed? What do you mean?"

She drew in a deep breath, trying hard to find the courage inside her to share her burden, and just when she thought it was going to come to the surface, she caught a flash of black and red in the trees that moved quickly onto the road, steel glinting in the sunlight as the assailant drew her blades.

Ginna didn't even think; she just acted, drawing her dagger and her sword and spinning in to drive the veiled woman down the side of the road, where she stumbled on the drainage ditch and fell back. Ginna tumbled in hard and drove her blade into the other woman's chest. She gasped, reaching up to wrap her finger's around Ginna's wrist, and then those fingers loosened as she twisted the dagger in deep. Ginna pulled back, watching a trickle of blood drip down the slackening jaw of her would-be assassin as her eyes glazed over with death.

Hunkering down over the body, she rifled through her pockets, taking her lockpicks, a few amethysts and about twenty septims. Unfolding the letter of assassination she'd carried in her inner-pocket, Ginna saw her own name etched into the parchment and felt her heart tighten in her chest. The only person she could think of was Mallus. He must have sent a courier to Cyrodiil as soon as she'd left the Bannered Mare the night before, but that still didn't seem like enough time for Brutus to enact the Black Sacrament. She knew he was a snake, and she supposed she had it coming for putting herself behind the push to get him out of Cyrodiil, but she'd never expected him to actually betray her.

A stunned Rune appeared over her shoulder, his mouth still agape. She pushed up off the ground and handed him the letter. "This is what I wanted to talk to you about."

She watched his eyes flicker across the writing on the parchment and then he lifted them warily to meet with hers. "Who would want you dead?"

"Someone very important." Taking the parchment as he handed it back to her, she folded it and tucked it into her satchel with the paperwork she'd taken from Sabjorn's office. She slung the bag over her shoulder and started walking again. "The same person who set me up to take the fall in Solitude."

It took Rune a few seconds to follow, as if he were still processing the fact that she'd just taken out a member of the Dark Brotherhood almost without blinking. She didn't talk until he was beside her, but as they made their way along the side of the road she told him her entire story from beginning to end. Severus taking her in when she was a kid, driving her father out of Cyrodiil, raising her with Brutus as if they'd been his own little children of the shadows. "And he was always jealous of me, from the moment The Grey Fox brought me home to House Dareloth. It was like all the attention that had once been focused on him had shifted to someone else, and he couldn't stand it. When our Guildfather died last year, it was his will that I succeed him, but I stepped down and yielded the position to Brutus. I just… never wanted it as bad as he did. And now… Mallus told me yesterday that Brutus is telling people I killed the Grey Fox."

He didn't interrupt, not even to ask questions, he just listened, occasionally lifting those gentle brown eyes to search her face, and every time he did she swore she saw sadness in them. As if he couldn't believe a guild-brother would ever do something like that to his guild-sister.

"You need to tell Bryn about this," he finally said when she hadn't spoken for a while. "You seem pretty well-guarded, and I'm honored that you chose to share this with me, of all people, Ginna, but that_is_ some really heavy bad. The kind of bad other people should know about, especially if you don't want them to hear it from someone else before you have a chance to explain."

"Brynjolf knows some of it," she sighed. "The parts about why he set me up, anyway. I just… I've never been good with letting my personal business air out in the open, you know? I mean… Brynjolf and I…" Brynjolf and her what? Had gotten naked together? Cuddled up in the dark playing house together in Markarth? Shared stories and mead, hopes and dreams? She'd felt so safe with him, protected in ways she'd never let herself feel with anyone else, and yet… "I don't know if I can trust him." She barely knew him at all.

The sound of Rune's laughter surprised her, and when she glanced over at him in curious question, he shook his head. "There is no one in the world I trust more than Brynjolf. He may be a thief, but he's a damn honorable thief and there isn't anything he wouldn't do for our family." He paused to let that sink in before adding, "And I get your trust issues, especially now that I know where you come from, but like it or not, you're a part of _our_family now, Ginna. Our family doesn't keep those kinds of secrets from each other, and we protect more than just each other's interests."

She didn't want to be a part of anyone's family. She just… _ugh_. She wanted to take everything she had, the whole couple thousand septims, and hop on a boat to somewhere, anywhere that wasn't a part of Tamriel. Maybe she could find an island and set up permanent residence alone, drink coconut milk mixed with moon sugar and lay in the sand beneath the sun until she shriveled up and melted away with the tide as it rolled in.

"Look, your secret is safe with me. I promise," he told her. "And I'm not going to say anything to Brynjolf, even though I think he should know. I just want you to consider talking to him about it, okay? We all help each other down there. It's what family is supposed to do, but no one can help you if you don't even tell them you're in need."

Asking for help was not a concept Ginna easily wrapped her mind around. Severus had always taught her self-reliance, his guidance and tutelage the stepping stones she'd needed to learn how to help herself so she never found herself in a place that required someone else to get her out, but he'd never prepared her for what she was facing.

"I'll talk to Brynjolf when we get back to Riften," she said, though a part of her still didn't believe she'd go through with it.

After their encounter with the assassin on the road, they were more cautious than they'd been on the way to Whiterun. They camped deep in the woods with only a small fire to keep them warm, slept with one eye open even while the other guarded their camp and traveled off-road all the way to Riften. It added an extra day to their journey, and by the time she saw Riften rising in the distance she was so tired she just wanted to drop at the gates and pay one of the guards to carry her to the nearest bed.

Instead, she parted ways with Rune, paying him half of what she'd earned from Sabjorn, as well as the two-hundred-fifty she'd promised before they left, and then promised to see him in the Cistern later. He didn't have to say anything, she could tell just looking into his soulful brown eyes that he was silently willing her to open up and talk to Brynjolf. All the way home, he'd given her a thousand reasons why he trusted Brynjolf with his life, but one man's reasons were never enough. She had to make the decision on her own.

And Brynjolf _had_ given her many reasons to trust him. She just hated the idea of looking vulnerable in front of him. Playing things tough had always been her game. She didn't need anyone's help, she never had. The notion that he'd find out from someone else, if he hadn't already, was worse. He'd probably think she betrayed him, lied to him right from the start.

Shaking her head, she promised, "I will talk to Brynjolf as soon as I finish my business with Maven."

"You won't regret it," he told her, heading toward the Temple of Mara as she turned right and cut across the bridge that led to the Bee & Barb.

She found Maven in the same place, sitting at the table in that small corner room upstairs, studiously leafing through paperwork. "You're back," she noticed without looking up. "I trust you have good news for me."

"Job's finished," Ginna told her, reaching deep into her satchel to retrieve the promissory note, which she handed over to Maven. "And here's the information you requested."

Maven snatched it out of her hand and unfolded it, her dark blue eyes scanning over the text. Ginna watched the wrinkles around her hard mouth tighten and deepen as she scowled. "Well, this doesn't tell me much. The only thing that could identify Sabjorn's partner is this odd little symbol."

"Yes," she nodded. "I've seen that symbol before, on the papers I found in Aringoth's safe. Brynjolf was consulting with his sources to get to the bottom of it."

"Hmph," she refolded the parchment. "Whoever this mysterious marking represents, they'll regret starting a war with me. You should take this information to Brynjolf, immediately." Handing it back over to Ginna, she nodded silent agreement and tucked the note into her pocket. "There is also the matter of your debt to me, which is now clear." She wouldn't ever say as much, but Ginna thought the woman was impressed. At least that was what her eyes said when she finally lifted them to look her over. "I want everyone focused on that symbol. Are we clear?"

"Yes, Lady Black-Briar. Will that be all for now?"

"As if that's not enough," she crossed her arms. "But no, that isn't all. There is one other thing. Brynjolf tells me you think yourself above staying their little rathole under the city." Ginna felt her gut clench for a moment as she wondered if he'd actually put it into those words. "I don't blame you," she went on before Ginna could answer. "There isn't enough money in the world that could persuade me to even set foot in the place."

"I was raised in Cyrodiil, Lady. In House Dareloth by the Grey Fox."

"Is that so?" That information seemed to intrigue her. "Severus was an old business associate of mine. We went back quite a ways, he and I."

"He taught me everything I know."

"So you were Severus's little Ghost?" she mused thoughtfully. "You were more than just his protege. You were meant to succeed him."

Ginna felt a strange sense of comfort, knowing Severus had spoken of her fondly enough that Maven actually remembered their conversation.

"That was his wish, yes."

"So the rumors I've been hearing are false?" There was no hardness in her eyes then, only curiosity.

"What rumors would those be, milady?"

"So many of them, of course. One in particular that caught my ear of late. Word from Cyrodiil is that you poisoned the Grey Fox to take his place."

"If that were true, I would still be in Cyrodiil sitting at the head of his table, doling out orders and running my Guild, but Brutus Arenicci was Severus's first pupil and I thought it only fitting the position of Guildmaster should go to him. Though I see now that was a grave error on my part."

"Turning down a position of power is always a grave error," Maven squinted, as if narrowing her eyes gave her some secret power to see through lies. "Especially when you're handing that power over to such a fool."

"Yes, milady."

"And that fool is willing to go to great lengths to have you taken out of the picture."

"He is weak, hiding behind slander and lies, and it is only a matter of time before he falls under my blade."

"Be that as it may, we can't have his assassins lurking in the Bee & Barb on the lookout for you. I've taken care of the Dark Brotherhood, for now, but there are always others who rise to take their place when the jobs don't get done."

"Thank you," she lowered her head. "That puts me in your debt again."

"A debt I've no doubt you will pay off in good time. You've proven yourself quite useful to me, and I always take advantage of resourceful associates who do right by me. Which brings me to my next proposition," she paused for a moment. Ginna was sure she only did it to make her squirm. "I have a house here in Riften, empty at the moment. It has a private porch that leads to the docks, which will allow you to enter and leave the city undetected as you see fit. You will pay me three-hundred and fifty septims a month to rent Honeyside, which I will dock from your payment when you satisfactorily complete jobs for me. If you are happy there, and you continue to do right by me, I might consider selling it to you at some point in time for a modest fee. Who knows? I may even just give it to you one day, if you continue to prove yourself… worthy."

Ginna studied the woman for a moment, not quite sure what to make of her offer. A house was a huge debt, even if she was only renting it, but it was privacy… maybe even a home of her own one day. She would never admit it to anyone, but a home of her own, even a place like Riften was definitely a step in the right direction. "I don't know what to say," she admitted.

"You ask for the keys, you silly twit." And for a moment, Ginna thought Maven Black-Briar was actually smiling at her as she slipped her hand into the pocket of her fine robe and drew out a set of keys. "Honeyside is located on the northwest corner of the city, tucked back behind Haelga's little whorehouse, or whatever she's calling it these days."

Ginna reached for the keys, the cold metal warming in her hand as she closed her fingers around them. "Thank you, Lady Black-Briar."

"Now, I believe we're finished here. Off with you then. Go."


	20. Chapter 20

Holding those keys in her hand, she actually stepped out of the Bee & Barb and looked over her left shoulder, in the direction of her new home. She could almost hear it calling to her._Come explore me. Come sleep in the comfort of my walls and I will keep you warm and dry._ Over her other shoulder, she could hear the Guild calling, Maven reminding her that the symbol at the top of that promissory note was of the utmost importance.

Even if she was spoiled, as Brynjolf seemed so fond of pointing out, she'd never put pleasure before business in her life. She knew better. Without business, there was no pleasure, and a life without pleasure was no life at all.

Crossing the bridge, and heading toward the Temple of Mara, one of the guards sneered beneath his helmet when she passed. "I know Thieves Guild armor when I see it. Don't think you're fooling anyone."

Ignoring his comment, she cut across the walkway and under the arch into the cemetery. She looked around to make sure no one was watching and then slid back the tomb to head down the stairs. Pulling the chain on her left, she ducked down into the Cistern as the tomb groaned closed again above her head, droplets of earth and stone showering down over her shoulders.

Rune was sitting at one of the tables beside a dark-haired girl with bright-blue eyes spooning hot stew into his mouth, and he nodded his head toward the practice room when he saw her. "If you're looking for Brynjolf, I mean."

"I am looking for Brynjolf," she assured him, though she wasn't sure talking with him there about the problems that followed her from Cyrodiil was such a good idea. She knew he would have to tell Mercer, and though she'd had very little actual interaction with the man, she was already certain Mercer didn't like or trust her any more than she did him.

"Good," was all he said. "You're doing the right thing."

Drawing in a deep breath, she crossed the Cistern and ducked by Mercer's desk without stopping. As promised, Brynjolf was standing in the back of the practice room with an open book in his hands. She hadn't really thought much about him while she was gone, but seeing him again made her realize how much she'd missed him, especially when he glanced up and smiled as if he were genuinely delighted to see her.

Her gut clenched then with an unfamiliar emotion she hadn't played to often in her life: guilt. Brynjolf trusted her, had trusted her from the start, and though she'd done her best to give him a bit of truth to tide him over, she hadn't expected her lack of forthcomingness to come back and bite her so hard.

Rune was right; she needed to tell him. Even if she did have trust issues, he'd been nothing but good to her from the minute he'd walked her out of Solitude's prison. She owed him the truth, and not just half of it.

"You're back," he noted, closing the book and laying it over the barrel at his back. "And the word on the street is that poor Sabjorn has found himself in Whiterun's prison." He crossed his arms and leaned back to look at her with unveiled admiration. "How unfortunate for him."

"Very unfortunate," she agreed. "And yet quite fortunate for Maven."

He was still grinning. "Exactly."

"For the most part, she was very pleased."

"And did you find anything of importance when you were going through Sabjorn's paperwork?"

"Well, yes and no. There was a promissory note in his desk from an anonymous partner, the mysterious benefactor who helped him get his operation up and running so quickly." He lifted an intrigued brow that urged her to continue. "It bore the same symbol from the bill of sale I found at Goldenglow, but no name."

"Let me see." She handed over the note and he scanned it for a moment, chewing at the inside corner of his mouth, deep in thought. "This is beyond coincidence. First Aringoth, now Sabjorn. Someone's trying to take us down by driving a wedge between Maven and the Guild."

"It would seem that way," she agreed. "We have to stop them, plain and simple."

"Indeed. Mercer thinks he may know a way to identify this new thorn in our side. He wants to meet with you right away. And if I were you, I'd hurry. I've never seen him this angry before."

"Okay," she nodded, starting to turn away. She could almost see Rune in her mind, those sad, trusting brown eyes willing her to do the right thing. "Brynjolf," she turned back.

"What is it, lass? Now's not really the time for idle chatter. Mercer's awaiting your presence."

Idle chatter? That stung a little more than she would have expected. She understood the importance of getting to the bottom of whatever it was they were all swimming in, but there were more than a few slaughterfish in her own private pool of misery. "Maven's letting me rent one of her houses here in Riften. Honeyside, over by Haelga's place."

His eyes flashed with a hint of amusement. "Well, that didn't take long. You must have really impressed her."

"Look, I know you're busy," though she still couldn't figure out what he was busy doing, "but I need you to meet me there after I finish up with Mercer. I have some important things I need to talk to you about in private, and it really shouldn't wait."

His eyes narrowed for a moment, brow furrowing as he cocked his head. "I don't think I like the sound of that."

"You may not like what I have to say. I don't know. I just know it needs to be said before things go any further than they already have."

"All right," he nodded. "I'll meet you there."

"Thank you," she turned away, her heart racing faster than it should have been.

She hadn't even told him yet, but just setting those wheels in motion made her nervous. What if all the trouble she'd brought with her was too much? His Guild had their own problems, and even if they had accepted her into their ranks, that didn't mean they had to keep her. She'd only done a handful of jobs for them, she was still proving herself to most of them, but loathe as she was to admit it to herself, the place and the people were actually starting to grow on her.

"How is your skill with the bow?" Ninruin stopped her outside the practice room.

"Umm," she glanced toward Mercer's desk. He was staring at her, waiting impatiently for her to bring whatever information she'd discovered into the light so he could strategize their next move against the shadowed enemy taking them apart bit by bit. "My skill is fair, but I could always use more training. I tend to rely a little too heavily on stealth and daggers."

"You should come and see me if you ever need marksman training," he informed her. "Nothing says, hello, I'm here to kill you like an arrow from a distant, unknown origin."

"That is very true. I'm on my way to speak to Mercer now, but I will definitely take you up on a little training as soon as I have a moment."

"Excellent. I look forward to sharing my knowledge with you."

Thrynn was standing near the edge of Mercer's desk when she came out, finishing up some business. He acknowledged her with a nod before stalking off and she stepped into his place when he walked away. Mercer leaned over the desk, both hands positioned over the paperwork he'd been looking through. Client lists and marks, most likely, but he made an obvious attempt at drawing it all together and tucking it into the top drawer of his desk when he looked up and saw her standing there.

"Ah, there you are." There was a gruff undertone to his voice Ginna didn't like. "It's about time you made an appearance. I've been waiting for almost an hour." She hadn't even thought an hour had passed since she'd walked through the front gates of Riften. "I've consulted my contacts regarding the information you recovered from Goldenglow Estate, but no one can identify that symbol."

Holding the promissory note out to him, she replied, "I found the same marking at Honningbrew Meadery."

He pinched his already tight mouth even tighter as he looked it over and then dropped it onto his desk. "It would seem our adversary is attempting to take us apart by indirectly angering Maven Black-Briar. Very clever."

"Maybe we should recruit them. Seems like we could use someone with smarts like that around here, the way things have been going."

"You jest, but they've been able to avoid identification for years. They're obviously well-funded, driven and patient."

Years? How long had this bizarre turn of the Guild's fate been connected to something identifiable, and why hadn't anyone identified it before now? Brynjolf claimed to never have seen a symbol like that before she'd shown it to him after Goldenglow, and though she'd thought she'd recognized it herself, she'd come across millions of symbols in her line of work. It could have just looked similar to another she'd seen. It almost seemed as if Mercer knew more than he was letting on, but when she lifted her gaze to study him, she saw only the familiar gleam of admiration in his eyes.

"You admire this person?"

"Don't mistake my admiration for complacency. Our nemesis is going to pay and dearly, let me assure you." There was something else in his eyes she didn't like, but she couldn't quite place it. She already found him unnerving; he reminded her too much of Brutus, only older and slightly more refined, though not much.

"So, how do we make them pay?"

"Even after all their posturing and planning, they've made a mistake. The parchment you recovered contains a reference to a Gajul-Lei. According to my contacts that's an old alias used by a contact of ours. His real name is Gulum-Ei, slimy bastard."

"So, where do I find this Gulum-Ei?"

"Gulum-Ei is our inside man at the East Empire Company in Solitude. I'm betting he acted as a go-between for the sale of Goldenglow Estate and that he can finger our buyer. Get out there, shake him down and see what you can come up with. Talk to Brynjolf before you leave if you have any other questions."

"Of course," she agreed. "I'll leave first thing in the morning." Though she wasn't sure how she was going to manage it. Erikur had told Brynjolf to keep her out of Solitude for a good long time, and if she ran into him while she was there, that could botch up the entire job. She didn't mention that to Mercer though; part of her had a feeling he'd just tell her it was her problem to deal with and she better find a way to make it work, or else.

"Good."

Before she left the Cistern to meet Brynjolf at Honeyside, she stopped in at the Ragged Flagon to grab a few supplies from Tonilia and trade in some of her goods from the road. She turned her jobs in to Vex and Delvin, collected her pay and asked if they had any work in Solitude she could do for them while she was there. After receiving the marks, Vex reminding her not to muck it up, she started for the door before remembering the decanter she'd found in Sabjorn's office.

"Oh, Delvin, I almost forgot," she turned back to him. "You think you might be interested in this?" She lifted it out of the bag and lowered it to the table for him to inspect.

He picked it up carefully, holding it against the dim, dusty light of the flagon, whistling between his teeth as he admired it. "Find this over at Honningbrew, did ya?"

"Aye. Worth anything to you?"

"I'll give you six-hundred gold if you're willing to part with it."

"Deal," she agreed.

As he was handing over her money, he grinned up at her, fingers brushing gently across hers. "You keep this up, and I'm gonna start to think you're flirtin'."

Ginna laughed and shook her head. "Who knows," she winked. "Maybe I am."

"Awe, you! Go on and get outta here, before Brynjolf catches on I've been tryin' to steal his girl."

_His girl?_ Had he staked his claim in her absence?

"Thanks, Delvin."

"No, thank you!" He wasn't looking at her anymore, but at the solid gold decanter in his hands, fingers covetously stroking along the curves as if she were a lover. "And you, you pretty little thing, you're comin' with me. Old Delvin's gonna set you up nice and right, he will."

The last thing she heard before ducking out the back of the Flagon was Vex muttering the words, "Oh, brother."


	21. Chapter 21

Ginna walked all the way to Honeyside with the keys Maven Black-Briar had given her clenched tight in the palm of her hand. She half-expected to find Brynjolf waiting impatiently outside the front door, but he was nowhere to be found when she approached and jammed the key into the lock. Pushing open the door, there was a fire already burning in the hearth, the wood smoke scent wafting out to welcome her home.

Brynjolf was sitting at the table with a flagon of mead as if he had every right in the world to be there.

"Hope you don't mind, lass, but I came in the back door and made myself at home." He grinned up at her, an endearing yet devilish smile that alleviated a little bit of the tension that had been clenching in her gut since she and Rune had sighted Riften from the road.

"You get to see the inside of my new house before I do," she huffed, sliding her bag off her shoulder and lowering it onto the cabinet beside table. "That hardly seems fair at all."

"There's no such thing as fair in our game, my girl."

"So that's what we're doing here then, you and me? Playing a game?"

"Come on, Ginna. You didn't ask me over to _talk_ about our relationship."

"I didn't even realize we had a relationship," she smirked down at him. "Not until Delvin told me I was your girl."

"What? You don't want to be my girl?" Mischief flashed in his eyes, and he reached out to take her by the wrist, drawing her down into his lap, fast hands immediately going to work on the straps and buckles of her armor. "I treat my girls real nice," he leaned in closer to breathe those words against her ear, warm lips fluttering kisses down her neck. "Rescue them from doing hard time, steal them pretty jewels like the ones on the bedside table in there, talk to important people on their behalf so they can live the lavish lifestyle they're accustomed to, make them whimper and sigh, just like you're doing now…"

She hadn't even heard the sounds escaping her until he pointed them out, and for a moment she knew it would be so easy to just slip into bed with him and forget all her troubles. "Mm," she breathed softly, bringing her hands up to grab his. "As good as that feels, and as much as I don't want you to stop doing it, I didn't call you here for that either." Drawing his grip away, she lowered both of their hands atop her thighs.

"No?" He sounded disappointed. Lowering his brow against the back of her head, he breathed in her scent and loosened his fingers from hers, exhaling a frustrated sigh. "Then why am I here?"

"There's something I need to tell you, something I learned while I was in Whiterun, and it could change everything."

"Look, lass, we'll figure it out together, all right," he assured her, thumbs stroking gently across hers before sliding up the length of her arms in a soft grip of strange comfort. "I mean, I know it's too early to tell if this is even going to work between us, far too early for something _that_ serious. _Playing_ at house is one thing, but we're still getting to know each other. I know an alchemist who makes potions for that sort of thing all the time. It's very discreet."

She jerked up from his lap and spun around to look at him. "What the Void are you talking about?"

His brow wrinkled as he leaned back in the chair. "What are _you_ talking about?"

"Mallus Maccius," she said.

"Oh…"

"What did you think I was talking about?"

"It doesn't matter," he shook his head, his shoulders slumping into relaxation as if the weight of the world had just lifted from them. "Who the bloody blazes is Mallus Maccius?"

Ginna felt her lip curl with distate, and she dropped to sit at the table beside him. She didn't want to think about Mallus, or the fact that he'd only offered to fence for her because he knew he'd never have to follow through on it. It was just the kind of thing he would do, too.

For a moment, she just sat back and looked around the house, trying to find her courage._Her house_. She'd been in it almost ten minutes and still hadn't explored it, but it felt like home. Just beyond the kitchen and dining area was a full bedroom and off to the side a set of stairs leading down. She wanted to jump and race down them, but instead she calmed her excitement and turned to focus on the conversation at hand. If things went badly, she had a feeling she wouldn't even get a chance to explore that house, much less live in it.

Drawing in a deep breath, she sighed it free as she began speaking. "Mallus Maccius was an old boyfriend of mine, an Imperial fence my Guild ran out of Cyrodiil over a year ago. A real sleazy, snake of a man, and now he's working for Maven, setting up Black-Briar West at Honningbrew."

"Right…" She watched his hand lift in question. "And what does he have to do with me?"

"It has to do with me," she sighed. "Mallus has been in contact with Cyrodiil and he told me a few things that… Gods, I don't even know how to say this." Lifting her hand into her hair, her fingers tangled through the braids, loosening them until she was sure they were a complete mess. Brynjolf didn't push her; he didn't say anything at all, just watched and waited, those perfect bow lips of his pursed curiously as his impatience grew. "Brutus Arenicci put the word out that my setup in Solitude was punishment for betraying our Guild."

Every line in his face disappeared as his jaw fell slack with disbelief. "What?"

"He's telling everyone I poisoned the Grey Fox in order to take his place as Guildmaster. When nothing could be further from the truth. I loved Severus. He was like a father to me. He wanted me to take his place, but I turned him down. I yielded the position to Brutus, and now he's…"

"Whoa, lass. Slow down a minute." He reached across the table for her hand again.

"My Guild was my life, Brynjolf, and I would have never done anything to jeopardize that. They were the only thing I had going for me, especially Severus. A part of me died with him. You have to believe me."

"I believe you," he was so calm. How could he be so calm, she wondered?

"You do?"

"I told you, lass. I know people. I've always had a knack for reading them, and I choose my Guild members very carefully," he said. "I knew everything I needed to know about you when we were on that dance floor at the Embassy, everything except your name." Reaching up, he brushed a rogue lock of hair from her face, tucking it back behind her ear. "You're one of ours now, even if you do think you're too good for Riften."

"I don't think I'm too good for Riften," she looked down. Maybe she did, just a little, but if someone like Maven Black-Briar could survive, even thrive in Riften, Ginna could too. "I just… I'm not used to living like this."

"I know you're not." Brynjolf lowered his eyes then too. "And I know we don't have much to offer you, but someone with your skill and talent, lass… you could rise to the top in a place like this."

"Brutus called upon the Dark Brotherhood," she told him. "Rune and I ran into one of them on the road, and Maven said there was someone hanging around the Bee & Barb."

"So Maven knows then?"

"She knows everything."

"Good, my first suggestion was going to be that we take this straight to her. Her influence is far-reaching, and if anyone can keep this bit of bad business from escalating, it's Maven. Gods," he fell against the back of the chair with a heavy breath. "What is going on in this world of ours? None if it makes a damn bit of sense anymore. Guild-families are falling apart all over the place, and before long, none of us will be able to steal so much as a crust of bread to feed our bellies."

"You're telling me," she shook her head. Nothing seemed to make sense, and as silly as it made her feel, she really was starting to think Delvin was on to something. "We have got to find a way to turn our luck around, Brynjolf."

"That's the spirit, lass," he brightened up quickly, as if no longer in the mood for such dark tidings. "And we can start right now by celebrating your first windfall of good fortune here in Riften. Welcome home to Honeyside. I even brought a housewarming gift."

"You mean besides the stolen jewels on the bedside table?" She felt her own spirits lift a little, some of the weight of her troubles diminishing.

"Aye," he beamed. "It's on the other bedside table, the one closest to the door. Go see."

She rose from the chair and walked softly across the floorboards. It was only a few steps until she reached the bedroom, and she saw the bottle right away. Cyrodiilic brandy, expensive in Skyrim, and sometimes difficult to come by on account of the heavy import tariff.

He moved in behind her, hands coming down gently on her shoulders. "A little piece of Cyrodiil to make you feel at home in your new home."

"That's…" she turned into him, and lifted her hands to rest on his chest between them. "That's very sweet."

"I told you, I treat my girls real nice." Lowering his mouth over hers, he whispered across her lips. "What do you say, lass? Should we crack open that bottle and do some celebrating?"

Ginna edged herself up against him, rising on her toes to assert herself. "Maybe later," she purred. "I haven't slept in a real bed since we left for Whiterun. I think I'm due for a good, long nap."

"Is that what the younglings are calling it these days? Napping?"

Reaching down her back, his hands slid over the curve of her backside to rest at the tops of her thighs. He hiked her legs up and circled them around his waist before carrying her toward the bed. Lowering her slowly, she fell back into the soft, feather-stuffed coverlet and pillows with a delighted sigh. Still standing, he leaned out to look down at her, a bemused grin tugging at the corners of his mouth as he began working at the buckles of his Guild armor.

"Is it comfortable enough for your delicate tastes?"

"It's only missing one thing." She sat and reached for his hand, tugging him down into bed with her.

They took things slow for the first time, savoring the long process of simply undressing and exploring one another. The gap between that moment and their last endeavor into bliss in Markarth had built up a delicious amount of tension, which they drew out for hours. Teasing, tasting, tangling into the sheets as the sun began to set over the tempered glass windows that lined the boards below the roof. It cast a golden hue into the house, which slowly faded into twilight as their bodies writhed, voices scaling together in a chorus of moans and whispers.

"Ginna, my sweet Ginna." She'd never been with anyone who said her name while making love to her, but he spoke it almost reverently as he rolled with her, driving himself into her depths with slow precision that made her gasp and bite her own lip.

She lost herself in that place with him, yielding to the unfamiliar comfort of trust as he pinned her arms above her head with one strong hand and came into her again and again. Even as the daylight faded, leaving only the lanterns and the fire still burning, she didn't want to close her eyes. She wanted to stare into him, know him in ways she'd never known another.

Being with Brynjolf _was_ different. She actually felt things when he was inside her, things she'd only ever read about in the dog-eared and tattered volumes her Guild-sister Brienne kept hidden in the locked chest at the foot of her bed. Of course, Ginna had read them all, mostly because Brienne had guarded them so closely, almost covetously. As a girl she would sneak into Brienne's quarters with her lockpick and swipe one of those treasured tomes from the chest. She would climb up onto the roof of House Dareloth and snigger as she read about the swooning maidens with their heaving bosoms and their lusty, savior knights.

Mostly, she'd thought the women in those stories were pathetic, simpering fools, waiting for some brave man to come along and whisk them away from their troubles. She knew that wasn't how it worked. One never left the care of their troubles to another, but a secret part of her had always thought maybe a compromise wouldn't be so bad. Sharing the burden of her troubles with someone else, knowing he was there for her no matter what she faced… Wouldn't that be something?

Could Brynjolf be that someone she shared her troubles with? She couldn't ever imagine being all soft inside, the way the women in Brienne's books were, but since she'd met him he had definitely been melting the huge chunk of ice around her heart.

When he dropped into bed beside her with a hearty exhale mingled with laughter, Ginna laughed too as she tried to catch her breath. She rolled and curled in the bed, snuggling up to him as she draped her arm across his waist after drawing the blankets up over their bodies. He maneuvered to tuck his arm beneath her, drawing her closer, and for a long time they just lay there quietly, coming back down from the intense high of mutual euphoria.

"The next time you try to lure me into bed with you, and I say I've got important things to do, I want you to hit me." He growled softly, nipping playfully at her ear before kissing her cheek in search of her lips.

"You may live to regret that," she murmured as their kisses deepened. "I've been told I have a pretty mean right hook."

"Mm," he moaned softly. "I love a woman who can hold her own in a brawl."

"I can hold my own," she assured him.

"I've no doubt about that, lass."

"Mercer is sending me to Solitude in the morning," she changed the subject.

"How do you do that?" he asked, lifting to prop on his elbow above her. "Is there a little switch inside you somewhere that just brings down the wall you built around you and sets you back to business mode, or is the wall always there? Even when you're whimpering my name?"

"I don't whimper," she laughed.

"Aye, you do," he disagreed. "And I'll gladly prove it to you, but only if you promise not to talk business for at least another hour. As much as talk of gold and money riles me up, it can't be all there is to talk about, even among thieves."

"It's all I've ever known."

"Surely you had other dreams when you were a girl?"

"Silly girl dreams, but even those didn't last long. My father didn't exactly foster daydreams, and most of my childhood fantasies revolved around discovering he wasn't really my father at all, but that he'd stolen me from some royal family who were desperately searching for their lost little princess." She hadn't thought about that fantasy in a very long time, and for a moment it made her feel weak.

"When I was a wee lad," he started, his eyes growing very serious, "I remember someone telling me a fairy story about a spoiled princess who could always tell when someone put a jewel beneath her mattresses because it made her so uncomfortable she couldn't sleep and left great bruises on her skin. Maybe it was a true story after all."

Ginna slapped at his bare shoulder, and he rolled into her, laughing at his own jest until even she was giggling. Deep, undulating ripples of laughter rolled through them both until they almost couldn't breathe, but it felt good. She had never laughed that hard in her life, at least not sober, had never let go of her inhibitions to just be silly with someone, but with Brynjolf it felt right. It was okay. He wasn't waiting for her to let her guard down so he could stab her, he just wanted to get inside.

"Oh, lass, it's so funny because it's true," he started to cough, the laughter tickling at his throat, until he sat up in the bed to take a drink.

"See," she moved onto her back to stare at the ceiling, the muscles in her stomach aching as the laughter slowed. "This is why I don't share things with people. You open yourself up to them, and they tear you apart."

"I'm only teasing you." He fell into the bed beside her again, his grin so wide, she almost started giggling again.

"I know," she sighed soft contentment and snuggled into him again. "You didn't happen to explore the rest of this place after you broke in, did you?"

"Aye," he nodded. "Basement's real nice, got a spare bedroom, alchemy and enchanting tables."

"Sounds nice," she stifled a yawn into her shoulder.

"Not quite as nice as our little place in Markarth, but it's cozy."

"Our little place in Markarth," she remembered. "I wish we could have stayed there, started a new life away from all these troubles."

"Hmm, I don't know if I could ever leave this place to live somewhere else. Travel is one thing, but I've been here my whole life."

"I never thought I'd live anywhere but Cyrodiil," she admitted. "Now it would seem I can never go back there."

"You will go home again." He brought a hand up to rest on her shoulder.

"Or maybe I'll just stay here," she said softly, tracing her finger along his breastbone and up the curving length of his neck into the soft hair beneath his chin. "Make a new home for myself."

"I'd like it if you stayed here." He squeezed her a little tighter against him before raising his hand into her hair.

"Yeah?"

"Aye."

Ginna felt her eyes growing heavy, the lids harder to lift again each time she blinked them closed. For a time she just laid there with her head on his chest, listening to him breathe, allowing the steady rhythm of his heart to lull her. It felt good being comfortable with someone else, scary, but good, and it wasn't long before her road-weary body succumbed to sleep.


	22. Chapter 22

Dreaming, Ginna had always liked dreaming. It was one of the few places she could do anything, and sometimes she felt like she was actually controlling the will of her dreams. But that dream occupied a dark place, and though she blinked furiously in hopes that her eyes would adjust to that darkness, it didn't work. And then she heard it, _scritch, scritch, scritch, schlunk. Scritch, scritch, schlunk, scritch, scritch._

She tried to run toward the sound, but she couldn't move. The space she was in was so small, and then she realized, as stark realizations often come in dreams without rational explanation, that she was buried alive, and that awful scritch, scritch, scritching sound was a host of angry, venomfang skeevers clawing their way into her crypt.

Ginna shot from sleep with a gasp, sitting up in the bed and dragging away half the bedsheets with her, but Brynjolf barely noticed. He rolled onto his side away from her, tugging as much of the blankets as he could pull with him as he smacked his lips and muttered something unintelligible. Throwing her legs over the edge of the bed, the creaking floor boards cold beneath her feet, toes curling as she rose to stand.

She was just going to get herself a drink and maybe have a look around the house, but two steps toward the kitchen and the eerie scritch-scritch-scritch sounded near Brynjolf's side of the bed by the door, made her jump a little, her heart seemingly skipping a beat. It almost sounded like someone was trying to break in, or skeevers really were gnawing their way through the wood. Kneeling down, she searched the floor for her dagger, but it was Brynjolf's clothes she wound up rifling through, drawing out the sleek, ebony dagger hooked through the scabbard dangling from his belt.

It would do.

She grabbed the worn tavern clothes from her pack and wriggled into that dress as quick as she could before sneaking quietly across the floor. Nearing the door, she leaned close to the wood, listening and then she heard voices.

"…be really angry if you wake them up. We were supposed to do this clean and quiet."

"If anyone's going to wake 'em up, it'll be you, yammering on back there, now hush up and hold that light a little closer. I'm almost finished."

Reaching for the door handle, she yanked it open quickly, a stunned and hunching Delvin nearly toppling back over the balcony above the lake and Rune almost dropping the torch in his hands.

"By the eight!" Delvin cursed. "Damn near made my heart explode."

"Shor's balls! What are you two doing out here? I thought someone was trying to break into the house."

"Sorry, pet. Didn't mean to give you a fright, but I'd say we're square. I think I wet myself just now."

"Keep it down. Brynjolf's asleep." She slipped out the door and pulled it closed behind her.

"Yeah, Rune. Keep it down." Delvin nudged the other man in the leg with his elbow, a devilish grin drawing at the corners of his mouth.

"What is going on out here?" Ginna crossed her arms against the damp mist rising off the lake behind the house, fingers briskly moving over the goosebumps raising over her skin.

"Protection," he explained, gesturing to the masterpiece he'd etched into the wall beside the door, a diamond with a circle in the center. "We don't want people thinking they can just walk into your place any old time they feel like it, go messing around with your things, taking stuff don't belong to them."

"And we can't exactly do this in broad daylight," Rune added. "Not all the guards will look the other way."

"Usually we're in and out and you never even knew we was here, but someone couldn't keep his bleeding mouth shut."

"Sorry," Rune lowered his head sheepishly.

"It's all right." She didn't have the heart to tell him it had been the carving of his blade that infiltrated her dreams, especially considering he was just trying to be helpful. "I'm just a little on edge, that's all."

"Oh right," Rune nodded apologetic understanding. "I didn't even think of that."

"Think of what?" Delvin glanced up at her, dark eyes narrowing curiously.

"It's a long story, and not one I really feel like telling again tonight."

"Say no more." Delvin leaned in to finish the last few strokes with his blade before drawing back to admire his work. "There we go. All done. Took my time on that one. Looks damn nice, if I do say so myself." He smiled up at her before pushing to stand and stretching the muscles in his back. "Sorry we woke ya."

"It's okay. Thanks for that," she glanced down at the Shadowmark again. "I'd invite you guys in for a drink, but…"

"Maybe some other time," Delvin said. "You go on back inside and get your beauty sleep, and let Bryn know I did my part."

"Good night," Rune waved.

She watched them disappear down the stairs, becoming one with the shadows almost instantly, but for a moment she lingered there on her balcony, overlooking Lake Honrich. The mists hovered eerily over the water, cloaking the fireflies and the lights from the docks until they were little more than a dull glow. Even still, the view was breathtaking, the mountain looming over the lake, the soft lap of water against the boats and land. Remnants of Riften's once great beauty; it was still there just waiting to be discovered and brought back to the surface.

But could she really see herself staying there for good? Making Riften her home? Even if they did somehow manage to get the Guild back on its feet, she feared her heart would always long for Cyrodiil. If she exposed Brutus's crime and earned her rightful place at the head of her Guild, it would mean leaving Brynjolf behind, and when she realized that a strange nervousness rumbled deep in her belly.

He was just a guy. There were dozens in Cyrodiil just as good looking, a few even shared her love for making money the easy way and those who didn't, well, they could often be bribed; everyone had a price, but she didn't want any of those other guys. She wanted Brynjolf, really wanted him. The thought of leaving Riften and not ever seeing him again made the nervousness inside her turn to nausea and she actually reached out to grip the railing in front of her for a moment.

What was going on inside her? She had never met a man who made her feel the way she did when she was with him, and not just while they were having sex. Even lying quietly with him in bed had felt like bliss; no words were necessary. They could just be together and it was comfortable and right. She felt like she could let her guard down, share parts of herself she'd always wanted to share with someone, but knew she never could. And if that business with the Guild ever calmed down enough that they could travel together again, she really believed the two of them could put the righteous fear of Nocturnal back into the world.

The door opened at her back, startling her for the second time that night. "Ginna?"

"I'm here." Turning over her shoulder, he stood there in the doorway in nothing but his loincloth, his hair disheveled from sleep.

"Everything all right, lass?"

"Yeah, I heard noises, that's all. I thought someone was trying to break in."

"Delvin?" he asked, shivering a little as the slow wind swept in off the lake. He slipped in behind her, arms coming around her, drawing her back into his chest as he rested his chin on her shoulder. Even though he shuddered just a little then, he felt as warm as a blazing hearth against her.

"Yes, but he's gone now. We should go back inside. You'll catch your death out here in nothing but your skin."

"Nah," he said. "I barely feel it."

"Well, I feel it." She led him back inside and locked the door behind them before slipping out of her clothes again and crawling into bed still shivering. She gratefully cuddled up to him, glad for that radiating warmth he put off, as it quickly ebbed the chill from her bones.

His arms around her again, she nestled in tight against him, releasing a comfortable breath as relaxation set in again. He combed the tips of his fingers along her bare shoulder, stroking her to the edge of sleep. "You will need protection on the road to Solitude," he said, as if they'd been in the middle of a conversation.

"What?" she started to lift her head to look down at him, his hand rising into her hair and falling slowly down her cheek.

"Rune's good with a bow, but I'd rather you take Thrynn with you."

"Rune has skills you can't even begin to imagine. He saved my life in Whiterun and besides, Thrynn doesn't know me."

"Rune didn't know you either before last week."

"I'd rather take you with me," she sighed, lowering her head back to his chest, the prospect of leaving him again dampening her spirits. It seemed like every time she started to feel comfortable enough with him to let go a little, something else came between them.

"I know, lass," he drew in a deep breath and then let it go, the force of it fluttering through her hair. "I'd rather it was me too, but with all that's been going on here… Mercer would have my head if I took off again. I feel like I'm the only one holding it all together right now."

"Maybe you are." For a time they were quiet, each of them lost in thought, and then Ginna asked, "Do you really trust Mercer Frey?"

He tilted his head to try and look down at her, one eyebrow cocked in question. "Of course I trust Mercer. If it weren't for him, I'd have ended up in Honorhall, or somewhere far worse after my ma and da were killed. Why?"

"I don't know," she shook her head. "It's probably nothing. He makes me… uncomfortable."

"He's a little rough around the edges, and sometimes his confidence is easy to mistake for ego, I get that. When you've been at this as long as he has, you're bound to get a little cocky, but Mercer's a good man. He just needs more time to get to know you. You keep doing what you're doing, putting us back out there in the world again, and you'll earn his respect."

"Maybe." Ginna yawned and he caught it too, and once more they grew quiet. "What about this Gulum-Ei? What should I expect from him?"

"I can't believe Gulum-Ei's mixed up in all this," he mumbled, stretching his legs beneath the blankets before rolling onto his side to face her. "That Argonian couldn't find his tail with both hands. Don't get me wrong, he could scam a beggar out of his last septim, but he's no mastermind."

Ginna tangled her fingers into his, loosely drawing their hands to rest on her pillow. "Think he'll give me any trouble?"

"Trouble?" he scoffed. "He's one of the most stubborn lizards I've ever met. You'll definitely have your work cut out for you."

"Hmm," she yawned again. "So, how do I get him to talk?"

"You'll probably have to buy him off. It's the only way to get his attention. If that fails, I want you to follow him and see what he's been up to. If I know Gulum-Ei, he's in way over his head and you'll be able to use that as leverage."

"He's going to owe the Guild for his betrayal," she said.

"Aye," he agreed in a soft murmur. "He does owe us, and with his fingers in the East Empire Company's pie, we'll make good use of that debt."

"So, keep him alive?"

"Keep him alive. Keep on his tail for now, and he's bound to step into something he can't scrape off his boot. And as soon as you have something, head straight back here, to Mercer. There is nothing else more important than this right now. And…" he paused long enough to stifle the yawn that overpowered him. "If you discover he's holding out on us, and has more loot stashed away than he claims, we'd find that information quite valuable as well."

"Understood," she said. "And what about Erikur?"

"Don't worry about Erikur. Maven put enough coin in his pocket to keep his nose out of the Guild's business, and whether he likes it or not, you're one of ours. His warning about you keeping out of Solitude was little more than a last ditch effort to save his pride." Brynjolf brought her fingers to his lips then and kissed them. "Sleep now, lass."

She groaned softly as he squeezed her hand. Try as she might to fight it, she was still exhausted, and yet she didn't want to waste the little bit of time they had together sleeping through his company. "I don't want to sleep. Sleeping means waking, and waking means leaving and I… I feel so comfortable here with you right now. I don't want that to end."

In the dim flicker of light from the hearth she watched the corner of his mouth twitch into a grin. "I'm comfortable too, but I'll be waiting for you when you get back."

"Will you? Or will I come home and find that really busy man with no time to say hello because of all the important things he has to do?"

"I had that coming, I suppose," he admitted. "Look, I know I was a little cold to you after we got to Riften, after everything on the road home… I know I owed you more than just dropping you into the thick of it like I did. I just…" His face was so calm, eyes still closed, brow relaxed. It felt like the kind of conversation they should have been having with eye contact, but something about the way they lay there together made it seem more real than any conversation she'd ever had. "Ginna, I've felt things since I met you. Things I don't even know how to put into words, and I started to get a little—"

"Scared?"

She'd felt it too, but more so as he started to pull away from her. That little bit of herself she'd dangled in front of him in Solitude and Markarth had made her feel so exposed, and the emotions were more raw and confusing than anything she'd ever felt before. The warmer he'd been to her, the more of herself she'd let show, until his sudden shift in behavior left her feeling like a fool.

"Aye," he said softly. "It's something I couldn't explain if I tried, but when I was dancing with you while we were at the Embassy, I felt like my whole world just shifted. And when we were in Markarth, it was like my bad luck streak had come to an end, and I'm not just talking about the rotten turn of luck the Guild's seen this last couple of years. I'm talking about my whole life. I took your jewel that night because you seemed like the kind of person who would have come after me to get it back, and I wanted you to come after me. That was why I told you my name."

"I would have too," she mused. "You have no idea the many ways I plotted to kill you while I was in that cell."

He chuckled. "I deserve that too, I guess."

"When you showed up to get me out, I still didn't trust you. Even when I slept in your arms that first night, I didn't trust you."

"I know."

"And then when we were in Markarth, I don't know, I saw something in you I'd never let myself see in anyone else. But we came back here and all of that was just gone. I spent three days on the road with Rune, and on our way back here I found myself telling him things I'd never told anyone, not even you because I still didn't trust you."

"And now?"

"Rune said I should trust you."

"I never thought I'd be competing with Rune for a woman."

Ginna snorted laughter. "No, it's not like that. He's a good friend, that's all. A good listener."

"Ahuh," he muttered. "That's how it starts and then before you know it it's I'm sorry, Bryn, but Rune listens to me and he's so mysterious… I'm running away to help him find out who he is. Farewell and thanks for the memories."

She playfully swatted at him and he tucked in, bringing his arms up to hide his face.

"I'm not going to run away with Rune!" she laughed, grabbing his arms to draw them away so he had no choice but to look at her in the dim light from the hearth. Even in the shadows, his eyes were so beautiful and green and she never wanted to look away. "It took a lot for me to open up and tell you the things I did today. It's taken a lot for me to let myself go as far with you as I have, but every time you blew me off it was like taking five steps back for every step forward I thought I'd taken with you. I_want_ to trust you, Bryn."

"But you don't."

"I want to, and right now that has to be enough."

"Aye," he sighed. "I guess that's as good as it gets then."

"For now," she lifted a hand to rest on his cheek and he curled his fingers around her wrist. "I just need time."

"I'll give you whatever you need, lass," he whispered, kissing her fingers.


	23. Chapter 23

The bed was empty when she woke stretching into the cool comfort of the blankets, and she hadn't even heard him leave. Under normal circumstances, even the subtlest movement would have woke her, but for some reason she slept hard when she slept with him, as if her body gave over to total relaxation in ways it had never known before. Before the disappointment could set in and grip her, she heard the familiar sound of pestle grinding against mortar coming from downstairs. Rolling onto his side of the bed, she drew the pillow he'd slept on close to and ignored the rumble of hunger in her belly just a little while longer.

Remnants of the conversation they'd had before falling asleep still lingered, but mostly that soft final promise he'd whispered. _I'll give you whatever you need, lass_. Even Ginna wasn't sure what she needed, but it was getting clearer.

She'd never been involved with someone so willing to give before. Mallus took, and before Mallus, there'd been a married noble, a man much older than she was named Lucius, who'd kept their relationship purely sexual with a twist of business. Lucius took too, always taking until she had nothing left to give and then he found some other girl, younger and more naïve, and he'd cast her aside like old clothes that didn't fit anymore. It had been easier to tell herself she didn't care as she sated her unspoken disappointment with Mallus until soon her foolish fantasies of Lucius leaving his wife became little more than faded memories that actually made her chuckle now whenever she thought of them. And there were others still, before Mallus, before Lucius, sometimes during and in-between and most of them only after the warmth between her thighs. She'd always told herself that was enough for her too.

But now… she didn't know anymore if it really was enough. And if it wasn't, what else was there for people like them?

There had been a couple in her Guild when she was a girl, a married couple, though try as she might she couldn't remember their names. She remembered sneaking out of bed to sit at the top of the stairs one night with Brutus during one of Severus's dinner-parties. She'd thought it funny the way people gravitated to the couple, listened with such enthusiasm as they talked about their relationship.

"This lifestyle is such a solitary thing outside the Guild-Family structure," the woman had said. "Before I met him I never imagined taking a permanent partner, but we work so well together."

"It's like she anticipates my every thought, my every move…"

"There's no one else I would rather have at my back or on my side."

Brutus had looked at her and made a gagging motion, poking his finger into his mouth and mock-retching and Ginna had stifled giggles into her hand. Severus heard them and with nothing more than a leveled glare of his dark eyes, sent them both scrambling back to their rooms to bed.

Ginna hadn't thought about that night in a long time, and thinking about it then made her heart ache just a little. Brutus had been wicked then too, but they'd had their moments together that made it difficult to imagine he would kill the man who raised them. Shifting her thoughts away from the darkness, she returned to that couple for a moment and wondered whatever became of them. Were they still together, watching each other's backs, combing through the shadows side by side?

She didn't hear Brynjolf coming up the stairs until his shadow lengthened along the sunlit wall when he reached the landing and ducked around the corner to look in on her. He smiled when he saw she was awake, lowering the bottled poisons in his hands onto the bedside table like an offering near the handful of jewels he'd brought her. She realized as she rolled onto her side, she hadn't even looked at them the night before, and reaching out she drew them into her hands, all emeralds. A silver emerald ring and pendant and a few rare gems, polished and gleaming green in that light from the sun. They were all larger than the one she kept with her all the time, their cut exquisite and beautiful, and she realized he must have gone to a lot of trouble to find them.

"These are beautiful," she lowered them back to the table, but kept the ring, sliding it onto the index finger of her right hand and holding it up to admire it.

"It's a crime the things people just leave lying around." He sat on the edge of the bed and she brought her leg around to rest across his lap. "Rune will be here in about an hour."

"I thought you said I should take Thrynn."

"Thrynn had to go north for a job in Windhelm, and Vipir left last night to see to a bit of burglary in Morthal. Ninruin and Cynric are headed over to Falkreath and I couldn't find Retienne, but that's nothing new. He goes missing from time to time, so I guess that leaves Rune." She didn't even know who Retienne was and couldn't recall if she'd met someone by that name or not, but for a moment she wondered if he'd really gone looking for anyone but Rune to send with her to Solitude.

"You know, this could all be avoided if you could just come with me."

"Don't I know it?"

"Don't worry." She lifted her arm, hand resting on his shoulder. "I won't fall in love and run off with him to uncover the mysteries of his past while we're gone."

"Oh good. I feel so much better now." For a few moments they just stared at each other, and then he came in above her, grin broadening as he nuzzled his chin along her, the soft hairs of his short beard bristling across her skin. "Just to be on the safe side, maybe I should reveal a few mysteries of my own."

"I like mysteries," she murmured, hands sliding down the leather front of his armor, slowly working the buckles as she roved. He descended to kiss her, lips parting into hers, the weight of his hips heavy with promise as he worked them teasingly against hers.

"We don't have much time," he reminded her. "Maybe just a quick one."

"We've got an hour."

"I can do a lot with an hour." His eyebrow shot up, and she giggled, working faster through the straps and buckles to get him out of his clothes and into her arms.

Ginna seemed to have no concept of time when they were together. Every kiss, every touch, every movement of their bodies together could have gone on for an eternity and she wouldn't have cared, and yet even in that timeless sense, it never seemed to last long enough. No sooner had she curled her spent and breathless body against his and stretched into the soft press of his lips to her a brow, than did a knock sound at the front door.

Without a word, Brynjolf got up to tug back into his pants sighing. She rolled out of bed and gathered her armor to head downstairs and dress so he could let Rune into the house. She glanced around the house she'd neglected to explore, while wiggling into her pants and buttoning them at the waist. It was a nice house, she decided, ducking in to have a quick look at the spare bedroom while buckling her armor across her chest. She leaned around the corner to view the enchanting lab and wondered if he would stay there while she was gone; she almost hoped so.

It would be nice, not just having a home to return to, but someone waiting for her in it too. Grinning to herself as she strapped into her boots, she hiked up the stairs and found the two of them sitting at the dining room table talking. They quieted when she entered, both of them glancing back at her.

"I hear we're headed to Solitude," Rune smiled up at her.

"Maybe you can pay a visit to your father while we're there."

"I would like that," he nodded.

Brynjolf rose from the table and started toward her, lingering almost rigidly in front of her. He wrapped his fingers around the leather of her armor and avoided her eyes, a long lock of auburn hair falling into his face as he pinched his lips together.

As if he'd sensed their need for privacy, Rune got up and announced, "I'm going to wait outside for you, Ginna."

"I'll be right out."

"Take your time." He slipped out the door, closing it behind him and Brynjolf's demeanor shifted.

Was it that he didn't want anyone else to see how soft he was with her, for fear it might damage his roguish reputation? Or maybe he felt like whatever it was between them was private, their business and no one else's.

"You be careful up there in Solitude, lass."

"I'm always careful," she assured him, leaning in to rest against his bare chest. She lowered her forehead to his shoulder for a moment and his arms came around her, drawing her in tighter as if he didn't want to let her go.

"If you run into any trouble, send word."

"I will. While I'm gone, you can stay here… if you want to, I mean."

He pulled back to look at her, finger ducking beneath her chin to lift her eyes to his. "And sleep in that big, empty bed without you? I wouldn't feel right."

"Well, if you change your mind…"

He cut her off with a kiss, sweeping in to steal her lips, mouth parting against hers. She opened herself to him, allowed the soft velvet of his tongue to dart in and caress hers in a way that made her whole body feel like someone had yanked the floor from underneath her feet. It was powerful, a wordless reminder that he would be there waiting, giving her whatever she needed, and even after he drew back, the tip of his nose nuzzling against hers as he smiled at her, her lips still tingled.

"When all this is finally over, it'll be us out there together running cons, pulling heists, and the world will fear our names. I really feel that, Ginna."

Ginna tucked his hair behind his ear and let herself get lost in his eyes. She'd never really wanted a partner in crime, but that vision was growing clearer and clearer in her own mind. "I look forward to that day."

She kissed him one last time, and then bent to grab her pack from the floor by the table. She opened the front pocket and dropped the jewels he'd given her in with her own emerald, and then tucked the poisons in with the rest of her stash. He stood in the center of the kitchen, watching her head for the door.

"Eyes open," he said as she reached for the knob, "walk with the shadows."


	24. Chapter 24

The road was long, even by carriage, but Ginna and Rune passed the time playing word and dice games in the back of the cart when they weren't talking or sleeping, and by the time they reached Solitude he'd won two-hundred gold from her. Her thoughts were never far from Brynjolf, wondering what he was doing, who he was with, if he was thinking of her. She didn't talk about it with Rune though, and he didn't ask. She sort of liked the idea of keeping whatever was going on between them behind closed doors, as if it belonged to them and them alone.

As they ascended the hill into the city, she had never been readier to finish a job, but as they entered the Winking Skeever and immediately set their sights on the only Argonian in the place, she could tell the lizard wasn't going to make things easy on her. Argonians… she'd never been very fond of them. Every one she'd ever known had been slippery, at best, treacherous at worst.

Rune hung back as she approached, arms crossed and head tilted as Gulum-Ei looked up at her.

"So, what do we have here? Hmm? Let me guess…" He lifted his open nostrils and sniffed. "By your scent, I'd say you were from the Guild, but that can't be true because I already told Mercer I wouldn't deal with them anymore."

Her scent? She almost lowered her nose to sniff at her own armor, but stopped herself before she went through with it. She didn't want to know if she smelled like the Cistern. "I'm here about Goldenglow Estate." She glanced back at Rune, who edged in a little closer to provide a bit of solidarity.

He was a quick one, answering without even batting an eyelash, almost as if he'd been expecting her and had practiced his speech. "Oh, well I don't deal in land or property, so it looks like you're out of luck on that front. Now if you're interested in goods, you've come to the right person."

"You can drop the act, Gajul-Lei." She loved moves like that, watching a person's confidence shift, all the muscles in their face tighten with unspoken fear before they scrambled inwardly to cover up the fact that they'd been caught red-handed. "I know who you are."

"Oh," he stammered a little. "Wait, did you say Goldenglow Estate? My apologies. I'm sorry to say I know very little about that… bee farm, was it?"

"Really?" She rolled and stretched her neck until it cracked. "That's funny. My sources say you acted as a broker for its new owner."

"Maybe I did," he shrugged, reaching for his goblet. "Maybe I didn't. I can't be expected to remember every deal I handle."

"Right," she smirked, lowering her hands to her sides and curling her fingertips around the hilt of her dagger. "Look, the people in Riften aren't very happy with you right now, Gulum-Ei, and you know what happens when the Guild's unhappy with someone. Especially someone who's uses are few and far between." She thought for a moment her veiled threat shook him. The jagged corner of his mouth twitched a little, and then he put his teeth together.

"Last I heard, the people in Riften could barely keep their heads above water." He'd swallowed hard against his own fear before he said those words, as if taking a flying leap of faith that she wouldn't really act on her own threat.

"Well, here's the thing," she drew her bottom lip between her teeth for a moment and then released it. "I'm not from Riften, and where I come from we don't so easily forgive and forget such acts of treachery. Now, identify the buyer and we'll forget what we know. See how easy it could be for you?"

"Easy?" he scoffed laughter. "I don't care what you threaten me with, or what kind of promises you make. If I tell you the buyer's name and word gets around, it could ruin me."

"So, I guess I have to kill you then. Death is always better than a ruined reputation," she shrugged, drawing the dagger from her hilt.

"Now, now," he held up a hand to stay her from drawing it out completely. "Let's not be hasty. How about we strike a little deal instead."

"What kind of deal?" she narrowed her eyebrows together.

"There is something I've been trying to get my hands on. I have a buyer looking for a case of Firebrand Wine, and my sources tell me there just so happens to be such a case up at the Blue Palace."

"I'm listening." She uncurled her fingers and let the dagger slip back into place.

"You bring me that case of Firebrand, and I'll tell you what I can about Goldenglow."

"That's it? A case of wine? What's the catch?"

"No catch."

There had to be a catch. There was always a catch, and even though she was sure Gulum-Ei had no idea who she was, she couldn't help but wonder if it was a setup. "I don't know." She chewed her lip again, glancing back at Rune to see what he thought. She could tell just from his eyes he didn't think it was a good idea, but she wasn't sure if his hesitation was on account of his smelling a rat, or just because he'd been clinging so long to the school of _steal just enough to get by_. "All right," she agreed. "I'll bring you your case of wine."

"Good," the lizard leered at her, or maybe that was just the way he smiled. She never could tell with Argonians.

Rune followed her out of the Winking Skeever, and though she could tell he wanted to advise against what she was about to do, he didn't say a word. She dug into her pack as she walked, feeling around the stones inside until her fingers came in contact with her emerald. She pulled it out and slipped it into the pocket of her pants, patting it for good luck and then closing her pack.

"You can go back inside and have a drink," she said, turning back to offer him a sincere smile. "This is one-man job and I'll be back before you know it."

"Brynjolf told me not to let you out of my sight."

"Did he now?" She wondered what else Brynjolf had said to him before they left.

"I probably shouldn't have told you that," he realized his mistake with a wince.

"It's all right. Your secret is safe with me. I'm just going into the palace. In and out, no strings attached. Two of us will draw more attention."

"True, but unless you are planning on scaling the walls in broad daylight to climb in through a window, there's only one way into the Blue Palace, and that's through the front doors," he pointed out. "You'll need someone to distract the guards so you can slip in and find what you're looking for. Someone to keep an eye out for Erikur, who according to Bryn spends his entire day licking Jarl Elisif's boots."

Erikur. How had she forgotten him? She thought it over for a moment, and then agreed with a nod. "All right. Let's do this then."

Distracting the guards wasn't easy. With the Imperial Army in the city, and the Stormcloaks on the rise, it seemed like everyone had their hackles up. When Rune approached the guard at the front gate to strike up a conversation, it was Ginna the man focused on, almost as if he'd never seen a woman before. "Wait," he stepped past Rune. "Don't I know you?"

"No," she shook her head. "I don't think so."

"You look very familiar to me. Wait, I remember now. You told me we would have a drink at the Winking Skeever three night's past, and then you just left me there waiting all night."

"Sorry, you're mistaken. I've only just arrived in town. You must be confusing me with someone else."

"Maybe," he lifted his helmet-shield to get a better look at her. "But I don't think so. Your hair was a little different, longer, I think, but I never forget a face. I'm pretty sure it was you. It's your eyes. They're very striking."

Rune cast a look toward her from over the guard's shoulder, nodding to the hallway at his back before slipping into the shadows and ducking back behind the left staircase. "That's so strange. I promise you that I only just arrived here in Solitude this afternoon."

"You're from Cyrodiil," he noted, lifting the helmet away completely and shaking out the shaggy locks of his light-brown hair. "I remember thinking the first time we met how distinctive your accent was. You told me your father was an Imperial Legate stationed up at Castle Dour. Why didn't you meet me?"

Ginna had no idea what he was talking about, but her continual insistence that she wasn't the girl he was looking for didn't seem to sink in, so she just played along. "My father caught me sneaking off, and wouldn't let me leave. I'm sorry. He's very protective, what with the war going on."

"It's all right. We'll have to try to meet up another time."

She caught sight of Rune over his shoulder again, the satchel on his shoulder heavy with wine as he approached and slid in beside her. "You should meet me there tonight," she suggested. "Say around ten-thirty?"

The guard's face lit up, and she knew she was being completely wicked, but it served the man right for not believing her in the first place. "I'll see you there," he beamed with excitement.

"Yes, you will."

Rolling her eyes as she turned, Rune headed out the door in front of her, and they ducked aside into the alcove behind the bushes to inspect the contents of his pack. "What was that all about?"

"Poor fool accused me of standing him up a few nights ago. So I figured I'd stand him up for real just to teach him a lesson."

"Wow," he sniggered and shook his head. "Remind me to never get on your bad side."

"Did you find it?"

"I did," he held up the satchel. "Firebrand Wine. Six bottles."

"That'll have to do. I'll split my cut with you."

"No need. I compensated myself fairly with a few items I found in one of the back rooms of the palace."

They walked all the way back to the Winking Skeever, where Gulum-Ei sat in his little corner waiting for them to return. "Ah, I see you have the wine," he noticed, reaching his hand out for the heavy satchel. "Hand it over and we'll talk."

"Here you go."

"Good, can't have my buyers growing impatient and turning to someone else for their wares."

"I believe you were about to start talking about things I'm actually interested in," Ginna interrupted before he could go blather on any further.

"Here, take these. I certainly can't use them, but I suppose I need to pay you something for the goods." He held up two soul gems for her and she just stared at them in disbelief. They weren't even decent soul gems that would fetch an honorable price if she turned around and tried to sell them.

"What? You're trying to bribe me now? I don't think so."

"No, no, not at all. I consider it an investment in prolonging my life. As far as Goldenglow Estate goes, I'll tell you what I know. I was approached by a woman a few months back who wanted me to act as the broker for something big. She flashed a bag of gold in my face and said all I had to do was pay Aringoth for the Estate. I brought him the coin and walked away with her copy of the deed."

It was Rune who spoke up, his voice laden with confusion and curiosity. "Did she say why she was doing this?"

"Not at all," he shook his head and took a drink from the mug in his hand. "I tend not to ask a lot of questions when on the job. I'm sure you understand."

"Right…"

"However," he went on, "I did notice that she was… angry. And that anger was directed at Mercer Frey."

"What do you mean she was angry? Specifics, please." Someone angry with Mercer Frey, that seemed likely. Ginna barely knew him and every time she talked to him he made her angry.

"I can't explain it any better than that. I didn't write down everything we said. I just took my cut and walked away when the deal was done."

"So that's it? No name or anything?"

"In this business we rarely deal in names, someone like you should know that. Our identity is defined by how much coin we carry." That much was true. Very few who worked within the shadows used their real names, but something about his story didn't sit right with Ginna, and when she glanced over at Rune, she could see he wasn't buying it either.

"I think you're lying," she announced.

"Look, that's all I know. I never promised you I had all the answers. You did your part and I did mine, and now our transaction here is done. I'll be on my way."

Shaking her head, she stepped back to take him in. Argonians. Ugh! Why wasn't she allowed to kill him again? He didn't seem valuable enough to spare, and surely there was someone else in the East Empire Company they could win over to their side. She watched him rise up from the chair and edge past her to head for the door.

"I'm supposed to tail him," she said quietly to Rune. "We'll give him a few minutes and then follow."

"He's definitely hiding something."

"I agree."

"Do you really think this whole mess is just a personal vendetta against Mercer?"

Ginna shrugged and turned to look at him. "What do you think of Mercer, Rune? Honestly?"

"I don't know," he replied. "He's a little rough sometimes, but he's always done right by me. He gave me a fair shake when Brynjolf brought me around, just like he did for you. He always makes sure I'm paid after a job."

"Brynjolf trusts him," she said, but even as she said she couldn't feel it herself. Her limited interactions with the man had left a bad taste in her mouth every time, and if she'd learned anything over the years, it was to trust her gut. "I don't know. I can't just trust him because Brynjolf does."

"You didn't trust Brynjolf just a few days ago. Maybe Mercer just needs more time to grow on you."

"Maybe," she drew in a breath and held it there for a minute, staring at the closed door. "I guess I'll follow him, see what else I can find out."

"I'll come with you. Lead the way."

She nodded. "Let's go."


	25. Chapter 25

The sun had started its descent into the mountains, layering shadow upon shadow beyond the walls outside Solitude. It was easy for the two of them to become one with those shadows, ducking down and slinking silently along the eastern wall and watching Gulum-Ei making his way warily down the hillside toward Katla's farm. From time to time, he paused to look back over his shoulder, almost as if he could feel them following him, and then he resumed his journey. When he reached the edge of the docks, he lingered there for a long while, looking left and right, glancing behind him for signs of life in every shadow, but he never caught on they were following and finally picked up his feet again.

By the time Rune and Ginna reached the docks, it was almost dark, making it even easier for them to slip along the water's edge undetected by the guards. They followed until they reached the East Empire Company shed and watched as Gulum-Ei slipped inside the building. Rune stood guard while Ginna picked the lock, and within a matter minutes they were safely inside.

She ducked around the corner and caught a glimpse of their target wandering along the merchandise. So much merchandise, clothing, books, food, weapons and armor; sweet mother of Nocturnal, she wished she'd brought a bigger bag. They could have made a killing in that place had they known what they were walking into, but she resisted the ever-present urge to fill her pockets and surveyed the inside of the warehouse to formulate a gameplan.

There were guards, not many, four or five, but they were all lingering near the center docks, occasionally drawing up their torches to round a small, circular patrol before arriving back at their posts. But the guard could be avoided completely if they stuck to the shadows and made their way along the upper-deck, which looked as if it led clear across the entire warehouse.

Ginna gestured to the shelving, walking her fingers across the top of her hand to let him know what she was thinking, and after glancing up to study the structure, Rune looked back and gave her a thumb's up. She climbed up first, gliding along the shelving like a cat, and once she had her footing, Rune scampered up silently behind her and the two ducked down to sneak along the edge.

She kept close watch on Gulum-Ei from the shadows, who stopped to chat with the guards each time he passed them. She strained her ear to listen, but it was only small talk. For a time they traveled up, near the guard's resting station, all the while Ginna kept her eye on her target until she watched him disappear into a hidden door behind a load of pallets and crates.

Peering into the empty guard station, she saw a few items worth getting her hands on, so she slipped in quick while Rune watched the door and filled her pockets with gold, jewelry and a few loose precious gemstones. On her way back out, she paused near the East Empire Shipping Map and wondered if that might not come in handy for the Guild. Rolling it up, she lowered it into her satchel and then she and Rune slunk down the pathway, dropping onto the dock with silent feet just near the doorway Gulum-Ei had slipped through.

The warehouse had ended, opening into a hidden grotto stocked with stolen merchandise. "Brynjolf is going to want to know about this," Rune whispered.

Ginna only nodded, and then motioned for him to follow as she snuck along the path and leaned out to assess the situation. There were two men on one of the docks, one of them muttering about mages having the real power. "Imagine being able to turn wood into gold."

"If that were true, mages wouldn't wear such tatty robes," his Orsimer companion grumbled. "They can turn iron into silver though, and silver into gold."

"Still," the Nord murmured almost reverently. "That's power."

The Nord was lingering a little too close to the edge of the dock, but the orc kept moving, making it impossible to get a clear shot. It was the orc that worried her though. He was huge, well-armored and with a fat-headed warhammer that glinted in the torchlight at his back. Sneaking past them would not work, and taking out the orc first was the only reasonable plan of action.

She and Rune exchanged looks, and she lifted a poison-tipped arrow from her quiver to show him what she was thinking. He nodded, following her lead and lining up his site on the orc. They fired simultaneously, both arrows sinking into his thick neck with a wet schlunk and he fell with a heavy splash into the water.

"What the—" The Nord scrambled into panic-mode. "We've been infiltrated! Fall back!" Ginna re-strung her bow and fired an arrow into his chest, but that only drove him down to one knee. "Is that your best?" He called out to the shadows. Rune fired another arrow into him, and it suck deep into his shoulder. "Please, I surrender," he slumped forward a little, still drawing himself across the deck on his hands and knees. "Death is overrated!" Ginna moved in quick behind him and stabbed her dagger into his back, jerking it free and then toeing his unmoving corpse into the water to clear the path.

Once the men in front were taken care, they headed along the pier with their bows out, sneaking up and taking out every bandit they crossed paths with with silent, poisoned arrows. Somewhere in one of the hidden tunnels on the left of the grotto, she heard a dog barking, but no one seemed to heed its warning, so they ignored it and moved on. They took out a man swimming in the water, and then did away with his companion on the bridge as well.

Winding along the treacherous pathway, they came upon two women hovering over a chest they were loading into a boat. Ginna crept in to survey the situation on the right, just beyond the bandit women. There was Gulum-Ei, arms crossed and chatting with Breton man in plain leather armor, who kept glancing toward the two women loading the boat. Ginna slid in behind one of them and slit her throat, and Rune took the other out with an arrow before nudging her with his elbow and gesturing that he planned to hit the bandit talking to Gulum-Ei. It left her the task of catching up to their slippery little Argonian friend before he a chance to get away.

He stretched his arrow back, lining up his target, and Ginna crept across the space to hide behind the stone mass that obscured her from their view. The arrow left Rune's bow with a sweet whisper, and mere moments later she heard it connect, Gulum-Ei gasping surprise and calling out, "Please, don't hurt me."

Ginna stepped out of the shadows and into the light to let him know she was there, her blade drawn and flashing in the dim torchlight surrounding the Argonian's private stash of stolen goods. Brynjolf would be very interested to know what Gulum-Ei was keeping in there, and she planned to have a good look before leaving.

"Wait," Gulum-Ei held up his hands in surrender. "Wait. There's no need to do anything rash."

"Are you sure about that?" she stalked toward him, turning her blade against the light to taunt him. "Are you ready to talk yet, or do I gut you and feed you to the slaughterfish?"

"All right," he nodded. "I'll talk, just put the blade away."

"No sudden moves," she warned, lowering her dagger.

"Look, this isn't as bad as it seems," he insisted. "I was going to tell Mercer everything, I swear. Please… he'll have me killed."

"And what makes you think that isn't what he sent me here to do?"

She hadn't even heard Rune come up behind her, but she felt his presence over her shoulder, his bow drawn, an arrow pointed at Gulum-Ei's heart. "I should kill you right now where you stand and just be done with it," Rune said.

Ginna glanced back at him, surprised by the sharp edge in his tone. She hoped he could see her face, her eyes willing him not to do anything impulsive. Brynjolf said to leave the lizard alive. All his stupidity aside, he was still of value to the Guild.

"No, please," he pleaded. "There's no need for that. I'll tell you everything."

"You better start talking and fast," Ginna said. "Or I tell my friend here to let loose that arrow and he's a mighty good shot. He left quite a few of your friends swimming in the drink back there."

"It's Karliah. Her name is Karliah."

"Karliah?" Rune muttered, lowering his bow slowly.

"You say that name like I should know it." Ginna looked between the two of them.

"Mercer never told you about her?" Gulum-Ei asked, standing up straight.

"Karliah is the thief who murdered Gallus." Rune started toward him, lowering his arrow back into the quiver on his back. The tone of his voice was unlike she'd ever heard it before. Edgy, angry and just a little bit scary. "And Brynjolf's parents."

"And now she's after Mercer," the Argonian added.

Ginna turned back to him, the blade still in her hand. "And you're helping her. I'm sure Mercer won't like that one bit when I tell him."

"Help? No, no! Look, I didn't even know it was her until after she contacted me," he insisted. "Please, you have to believe me."

Rune edged up on him, and even though he was almost a head shorter than the lizard, he looked so intimidating it actually gave Ginna chills. "Why should we believe you? Because you helped her, our Guild is falling apart."

"It wasn't like that, I swear."

"Give me one good reason I shouldn't kill you," Rune sneered.

"Brynjolf wants him alive," Ginna intervened, raising a hand to Rune's arm to urge him to calm down. "Where is Karliah now, Gulum-Ei?"

"I don't know," he shook his head. "When I asked her where she was going, she just muttered, '_Where the end began_.'"

"Where the end began?" Rune repeated. "What does that even mean?"

"I have no idea. Here, take the Goldenglow Estate deed as proof, and tell Mercer I am worth more to him alive than dead."

"You're worth nothing." Rune spat at his feet and stepped back, walking toward the chests on their right to collect his thoughts.

"Why did Karliah purchase Goldenglow?" Ginna sheathed her dagger. "Did she tell you?"

"I asked her the same thing, but she wouldn't tell me. But I would say she's trying to tear the Guild apart from the inside out."

"By making the Guild look bad in front of Maven," Rune said. "Like we couldn't do our jobs, and keep her assets protected the way we should."

"She loses faith in us," Ginna lowered her head. "And without Maven, the entire Guild falls apart."

"Exactly," Gulum-Ei sighed. "Karliah must have spent a lot of time and resources working up to this."

"But why? So she killed Brynjolf's family, murdered Gallus to take him out, and now she's after Mercer, but for what end?" Something about what they were telling her didn't add up, and until she could wrap her mind around that missing bit of information, it wasn't going to make sense no matter how she tried to look at it. Was this woman just pure evil? Or did she have something to gain?

"I swear, I don't know anything else, if I did, I'd tell you."

"I'll tell you what," she looked toward Rune again, watched him climb up the ladder to inspect the crates near the top of the pallets. "I'm going to hang onto this deed and I'll keep quiet about your little scam, but you owe me. Are we clear?"

"Now you're speaking my language." She couldn't tell if he was grinning, or leering again, but she didn't care. "If you're ever in Solitude, and you need any stolen goods fenced, bring them to me and I'll give you good money for them."

"It's a start," she sighed, "but I can tell you right now there's gonna come a time I find myself in need of more than just a fence and I will call upon you. Just remember that."

"I will," he assured her. "I am in your debt… You never did tell me your name."

"In our business, we rarely deal in names. You, of all people, should know that." She turned his own words back on him. "I am a Ghost. That's all you'll ever need to know."

After clearing out the chests, she and Rune left the grotto through a cavern exit that came out on the edge of the sea. It was dark, the moons hovering over the water like two nesting slivers of light that shimmered across the waves and the distant reach of the lighthouse flashing out to devour their luminescence each time it rotated across the water.

"You shouldn't have told him who you were," Rune said. "If word gets back to Cyrodiil…"

"I can't spend the rest of my life in fear of what Brutus might do if his lackeys ever catch up to me." The waves were so soothing, and though her thoughts ran rampant through her mind at such a pace she could barely grasp them long enough to make sense of them, she did know one thing. "He will never come after me himself because he fears me, and if I show him I am not afraid to make myself known here it will feed his fear. He'll lose sleep, become reckless… careless…"

"And if he teams up with Karliah?"

Ginna turned her gaze to look at him, the shadows making it almost impossible to see anything but his eyes. "What do you really know about Karliah, Rune? Didn't all of that happen long before you even joined the Guild?"

"Well, yes, but Brynjolf told me everything I needed to conclude that she's dangerous."

"She's the one who murdered Bryn's mother and father?" He'd never told her the murderer's name, only that his parents had been hit first, and shortly after, the Guildmaster. "And Gallus?"

"Yes, and if she's after Mercer now…"

"Do you know anything else about her? What kind of person she was? What pushed her over the edge? I mean, why did she kill Gallus? Why Brynjolf's parents? She didn't do it to take over the Guild… Everyone knows it was her, so it isn't like she could just walk back in one day and take Mercer out in hopes that she could just claim his role and be forgiven."

She didn't need to see anything but his eyes to know her questions confused him. "It doesn't matter why she did it. It's enough to know she did. She needs to be stopped before someone else gets killed."

"Yes," she agreed. "We need to get this information back to Mercer right away."

"It's a long walk back to the carriage," he noted. "And then another four or five days to Riften." The carriage was great for those who couldn't afford to travel by horse, but horses would carry them quickly, cutting at least a day or two off the southeastern trek across the country.

"Maybe we can find a couple of horses to carry us home."

"Now you're talking."


	26. Chapter 26

While Rune paid a brief visit to his father, Ginna took care of the business she'd come to do for Vex and Delvin and after she finished, she snuck onto the farm below Solitude and stole both horses out of the stables. They whinnied in protest, as if they knew she was taking them for more than just a midnight stroll, but she placated them with sugar cubes she'd taken from the pouch just inside the barn and then led them by their harnesses to the edge of the road where Rune was already waiting for her.

He seemed more withdrawn than before they'd briefly parted, and when she asked if he was all right, he just said he was worried about his father and left it at that. She had more than enough on her own mind to keep her occupied, so she didn't press him.

Discovering Karliah was behind the Guild's troubles was more than Rune could stomach, but Ginna couldn't shake the feeling that there was something far deeper going on. None of it made sense, though she supposed it didn't have to. Some people were just plain evil, like Brutus, and that was the thought Ginna kept finding herself hung up on.

Though she couldn't fully begin to comprehend why Brutus did the things he did, she had a pretty good idea. Jealousy had driven him to push her out of the picture; he'd been trying to get rid of her as long as she could remember, though when they were children she'd never taken it seriously. Now that she'd already yielded to him everything he could have wanted, it seemed he wanted to make her suffer.

But what was Karliah's motivation? She remembered when Brynjolf first told her about his parents, about the woman who killed them…

_She'd always been so kind to me_.

Was this Karliah some kind of sadist who thrived on the agony of others? Just thinking about what she'd done to Brynjolf made the muscles in Ginna's stomach clench tight as a fist. Even when they broke to rest awhile, she took little sleep while Rune kept watch. Every sound in the night was an intruder, every cracked twig some secret assassin sneaking up to take them out. It turned out to be nothing more than a fox, but she didn't like feeling so on edge.

It was as if her entire life had become one big razor and she was constantly skirting along the sharp edge, waiting to slide off. The fact that Rune seemed just as paranoid as she did didn't make her feel much better.

When Riften finally came into view, she actually felt relief for the first time in days. Even Rune seemed to lighten up a little. They rode hard until they reached the stables, dismounting and leading the horses to the stablemaster, but Hofgrir refused to board the horses at first.

"I know they aren't your horses," he said gruffly.

Ginna sidled up close to him and drew a small sack of gold from her pack. She reached for his hand and lowered it into his palm, closing his fingers around it. "And how does this help your conscience?"

"They're beautiful horses," he nodded, sinking the coinpurse into the pocket of his tunic. "How long will you need to house them here?"

"Indefinitely," she shrugged, walking away. "Just take good care of them."

"You bet I will."

Rune noticed the way Hofgrir followed her with his eyes and said, "He better hope Brynjolf doesn't catch him making eyes at you."

"He wasn't making eyes at me," she insisted, the two of them pushing through the gates together.

"I'm pretty sure he was."

"Well, even if he was, I wasn't making them back."

"It doesn't matter," Rune shrugged. "It's the principle."

She'd never thought when she first stepped through the gates into Riften just a month earlier with Brynjolf that it would ever feel like home, but she sure was glad to be there. As they walked the pier, she glanced toward Honeyside and longed to slip inside its comfort to finally familiarize herself with it, but she had a feeling Mercer would be sending her back out to take care of Karliah. She at least hoped he gave her time to flop onto her bed and get a good night's sleep.

"Thanks for coming with me," she turned to him when they entered the cemetery. "What do I owe you?"

"Nothing," he said.

"What do you mean, nothing? You pickpocket me when I was sleeping?"

"I didn't come with you to get paid," he told her. "I came as a friend to watch your back, and to do a little side work. My pockets are full and besides, I think I took enough of your gold playing dice."

"Oh yeah. Remind me not to play dice with you again," she jested, elbowing him as they approached the crypt.

Sauntering down the stairs side-by-side, he reached down to open the tunnel as Ginna tugged the pull chain to close the stone slab overhead. "If you're heading out again and you need me to tag along, just let me know."

"I will," she assured him. "Thanks again."

They parted ways in the Cistern, Rune heading left to catch up with Sapphire and Ginna scanning the area for Brynjolf. Taking a deep breath, he was nowhere to be found, so she exhaled and made her way across the passage to Mercer's desk.

He was facing the shelving studying some trinket, but when she cleared her throat he replaced it and turned around. "It's about time you get back. Did Gulum-Ei give up any information on our buyer?"

Straight to business. Good, that meant she wouldn't have to spend much time in his company. At least she hoped that was what it meant. Knowing he was some murderer's target didn't make her feel any affinity with him at all, but he was her Guildmaster now and she would do whatever he asked of her. Even protect him.

"He said someone by the name of Karliah purchased Goldenglow." Ginna carefully watched his face, the ever-present scowl melting away, the tightness in his eyebrows lowering as his jaw dropped slowly open.

"No," he shook his head in disbelief. "No, that can't be. I haven't heard that name in… in decades." He looked almost scared as he lowered his gaze and admitted, "This is grave news indeed. She's someone I never hoped to cross paths with again."

"She killed the former Guild-master, Gallus," she said. "And Brynjolf's mother and father."

"Yes," he stammered a little bit. "Yes, she did. Karliah destroyed everything this Guild stood for. She murdered them in cold blood and betrayed us all. After we discovered what she'd done, we spent months trying to track her down, but she just… vanished."

"And now she's returned," Ginna leaned her hands down on the surface of his desk. "Any idea why?"

He shook his head, looking down at her hands. "Karliah and I were like partners. I went with her on every heist. We watched each other's backs. I know her techniques, her skills." Lifting his eyes to meet hers again, he squinted, lip curling just a little. "If she kills me, there will be no one left that can possibly catch her. If only we knew where she was…"

"Gulum-Ei only said that she told him she was going where the end began. Cryptic at best, unless that has some kind of special significance to you."

"Where the end began?" he mulled that over for a moment and then nodded. "There's only one place that could be. The place where she murdered Gallus. A ruin called Snow Veil Sanctum north of Windhelm."

"Then I should head up there first thing tomorrow morning, see if I can find her."

"Yes, we should head out there to see if we can catch up with her before she disappears again."

"We?" That stunned her a little, and she stepped back to look at him.

"Yes, I'm going with you and together we're going to kill her."

Brynjolf had made it very clear to her that killing wasn't the way of things in their Guild, unless circumstances prevented one from avoiding it. "Isn't murder Dark Brotherhood territory," she pushed up off the desk.

"This is different. I have a longstanding arrangement with the Dark Brotherhood. If I need someone in the Guild taken care of it, we do it ourselves. Here, here's your payment for the job in Solitude." He pushed a heavy sack of gold across the desk and Ginna reached for it. It was heavier than her last payment, but even as she lifted it she couldn't even begin to guess how much was inside. "I want you to prepare yourself. I have a few things I need to take care of before I go, but I will meet you at Snow Veil Sanctum. We need to be quick. We can't let her slip through our fingers again."

"I'll ride out first thing tomorrow morning."

"Good."

"What else do I need to know about Karliah? What should I expect?"

"She was a stubborn Dunmer," he shook his head. "Always had to do everything her way, but she was also the best. She brought in more gold in a month than most thieves heist in a year. Gallus trusted her too much and let her get too close."

"So… they had a relationship?"

"If you want to call it that, yes. Me? I think she was softening him for the kill. Gallus used to call her his _little nightingale_. He was absolutely smitten by her."

Maybe it was a stupid question, but she had to ask because it still didn't make sense, no matter how much deeper she delved into it. "Why did she kill him?"

"Greed? Jealousy? Spite? Who can say what drove her to such an iniquitous act. One thing's certain. I intend to find out before she draws her last breath."

"We will catch up with her," Ginna assured him. That was all she'd needed to hear to seal her commitment to that act. Killing over greed, jealousy and spite… Karliah's crime was as unforgiveable as Brutus's in her mind, and as she made her way through the Cistern toward the Flagon to turn in her jobs to Delvin and Vex, she ignored her gut feeling trying to tell her something still wasn't right.

Brynjolf wasn't in the Ragged Flagon. Delvin told her he was taking care of a bit of business for Maven, and after collecting her payments she headed up through the Ratway with a heaviness in her heart. Business for Maven could mean anything, and she feared she wouldn't get to see him again before heading out to meet with Mercer at Snow Veil Sanctum.

At home, she stripped out of her armor and into more comfortable clothes, and then she walked the market in search of food. She bought some venison and carrots and then headed back to Honeyside to make herself something to eat. She ate alone, then ventured downstairs to disenchant a few items she'd picked up in her travels and sift through the well-stocked collection of potion ingredients near the alchemy lab. She made a few potions and poisons to take with her in the morning, but mostly she was just dragging out time, hoping Brynjolf would come back before she went to bed.

As she was walking toward the stairs, she caught a glimpse of a lone book on the shelf and for some reason it struck her. _Nightingales: Fact or Fiction?_ She paused and tried to remember if that book had been there before, but she hadn't really spent much time down there and couldn't recall. Lifting it off the shelf, she opened the pages and thumbed through it, reading the author's argument on whether or not a secret faction within the Riften Thieves Guild that dedicated itself to Nocturnal existed.

Thieves and religion… it was an interesting concept but one most thieves only played to in passing. It was no secret their foul or favor was determined by Nocturnal's whim, but few ever looked beyond the Daedric Prince of Darkness's influence, and she'd never met anyone who actually worshipped or served Nocturnal.

The author of that book posed the question: did the Nightingales exist within the Guild itself? She'd have to ask Brynjolf about it… if she ever saw him again.

It was getting late, and try as she might to keep her eyes open any longer, she knew she needed to sleep if she was going to get up and ride out to Windhelm in the morning. Closing the book and returning it to the shelf, she told herself Brynjolf would be there when she got back, but even knowing that didn't alleviate the subtle sadness she felt at not having the chance to see him again.

He'd really gotten under her skin, and try as she might to fight it, she knew she couldn't anymore. She was falling for him, hard and fast and it terrified her.

She was just heading up the stairs when she heard someone come in the back door. She ducked around the corner with her dagger in her hand to find Brynjolf standing in the middle of the bedroom. Though his face softened a little when he saw her, he didn't look happy at all. She felt ashamed of herself for not even realizing how hard he was going to take hearing the news about Karliah; the woman had murdered his parents.

"I've just come from the Cistern," he announced. "Mercer told me everything."

"We're heading up to Snow Veil Sanctum tomorrow to track her down."

"Good," he nodded. "She needs to pay for the things she's done."

"Are you coming with us?"

"No." He lifted a hand into his hair, fingers passing through it as it fell back into place around his face. When he sighed, it wavered against his breath like bright red feathers in the wind. "Mercer said I should stay here, in case he doesn't come back. Someone needs to hold the Guild together."

Those words send a shudder through her, the severity of the task ahead sinking in for the first time. "So, Mercer's not planning to come back from this alive?"

"I don't know what he's thinking," he shook his head. "Karliah is dangerous." Stepping toward her, he didn't seem to know what to do with himself when he finally stood in front of her. He lifted his hands as if he meant to grab her arms, but then dropped them again at his sides. "She's smart as a whip, lass. One of the best…"

Ginna lifted her eyes to his, waiting for him to meet her gaze, but he didn't. "Mercer's been at this a long time too. He told me they were partners once. That will give him… give us an edge against her. As long as he doesn't lose his head."

"Aye," he agreed with a nod. "I just… I don't like this, Ginna. I have a bad feeling in my guts."

"I understand."

"No, you don't understand," he shook his head, walking past her to sit in the chair near the wardrobe. He leaned down to rest his elbows on his knees, head lowering, hair falling into his face. "Once I was old enough to realize what had really happened to my ma and da, my hate festered inside me like a disease. I've spent the majority of my life thinking about hunting her down, running my blade through her heart."

Ginna knelt down in front of him and took his hands into hers. "I can't even begin to imagine how hard this is for you, knowing she's out there… That she's been working from the shadows to try and destroy everything you and Mercer worked so hard for… I just… I can't stop asking myself why she did it in the first place."

"She's a madwoman?" he suggested, grinding his teeth together hard. "Who knows why crazy people do the things they do."

"Mercer told me she and Gallus were lovers."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"I don't know," she softened her voice in hopes of calming him. "Most people do the kinds of things she's done for a…" Her voice trailed off when she saw the fire in his eyes, as if he were daring her to make an excuse for his enemy. "I'm just trying to understand, Bryn."

"There's nothing to understand, Ginna. She needs to die and that's the end of that."

"Okay."

"Before she tears my Guild apart or hurts anyone else I love."

Ginna swallowed, dropping back on her heels to study him. "She will pay for the things she's done, I promise."

He steepled his hands together and lowered his head, the hair falling around his face like a curtain. For a long time they sat that way, with nothing but the sound of logs cracking and spitting in the hearth to break the silence. Finally, Ginna pushed up off the floor and started to turn from him, but he grabbed her wrist and stood, towering over her like a giant.

"I'm sorry, I just… I've never been this angry and confused. It's like twenty-five years of hate just bubbling to the surface and my blade thirsts for her blood, but Mercer won't let me quench it and…" Shaking his head again, he didn't even know how to go on, so he just stopped.

Ginna lifted a hand to his face, traced fingers down the scar that lined his left cheek before leaning into him and putting her arms around his neck. The stiffness of his muscles relaxed against her and he lowered in to hug her closer.

"Just promise me you'll be careful," he whispered against her ear, lips soft as he brushed them across her cheek before tilting her chin upward into his kiss. "Promise, lass."

"I promise," she exhaled.

"I…" his fingers tangled through the ties of her bodies, tugging it slowly open while she worked down the buckles of his armor. "I just want to keep you here, safe… with me… always," he murmured between kisses. Drawing back to tug out of his clothes, Ginna lifted her dress up over her head and let it fall to the floor. He came back in, hands bracing her shoulders, brilliant green eyes locked on hers. "I want to make a life together, Ginna, be partners. Real partners. You and me."

She had a feeling he was talking about much more than just running jobs together and splitting the take. "When all this is over we'll talk about a partnership…"

"Life's too short. I want to talk about it now."

"What is there to talk about, Brynjolf? You don't want me to go back to Cyrodiil? You don't want me to go on this job with Mercer?"

"I'm saying I want to keep you, full-time. I'm saying we should always be together, even when we're apart. I'm saying…" he kissed her again, drinking deep from her lips as his chest came into hers. "I don't want anyone else but you."

Ginna didn't answer, only kissed him back, hard and strong until their desperation showed them to the bed. She couldn't deny the way she felt when she was with him. When he was inside her, it was more than just two bodies coming together. It was as if they'd been made for each other, body, mind, soul, and it both thrilled and terrified her. For too long sex had been her weapon against men, but with Brynjolf it was her weakness. Every caress, every breath they drew together, every heavy collision of their bodies in the dark was an addiction and she wanted to feed it until it consumed her.

His eyes, those gods-forsaken eyes, staring into her while they tangled and writhed and stretched their bodies together. It was as if he could see things in her even she didn't know were there. He made her feel weak and yet so strong, and inside she was soft and warm and melting as her fantasies scaled impossible heights, unbelievable outcomes. The things they could do together, the life they could make together…

And every gasping whimper and desperate cry they sang together was sweet music to her soul. "_Yes!"_ she echoed his triumph over her and then rolled with him until he was on his back and hers to claim in equal pleasure and mutual domination. "Brynjolf," she whispered again and again. He reached for her, hands drawing her down into his hungry mouth to devour his own name from her lips.

Had she even been alive before she met him? She couldn't remember anymore and didn't want to know if there was life after him, without him.

When he finally let go, releasing his warmth inside her, she lowered herself to his chest and they clung to one another in the dark silence.

"Ginna," he murmured, lifting a hand into her hair. "My Ginna."


	27. Chapter 27

Ginna barely slept, even though she knew she would regret it once she was on the road. She laid awake beside her lover and watched him sleep for hours, her mind turning around the things he'd said, her gut wrenching with the tangle of doom that seemed to hover over them in the dark. Several times she found her hand reaching up to traced the scar that decorated his face. She didn't even know how he'd come by it, but she wanted to. She wanted to know everything about him, every memory, every moment leading up to the day they met. He'd shared plenty with her in those first weeks they'd known one another, traveling from Solitude to Markarth, Markarth to Riften, but there was still so much to learn, still so much of herself she wanted to share with him.

Just before dawn he must have felt her fingertips upon his skin and stirred, eyes blinking open and searching hers in the low glow from the hearth in the kitchen as a slow grin tugged the corners of his mouth upward.

"Why aren't you asleep?" His voice was hoarse with lack of sleep. He brought her hand down and tucked it underneath his cheek, turning his lips down to kiss her palm.

"I don't know," she murmured. "Restless."

"Maybe I should try to tire you out again so you can at least get a little sleep," he laughed softly, hand slipping over the curve of her hip to tug her in closer. Ginna lifted her leg over his, drew her foot along his calf and closed her eyes.

"Maybe you should."

"I don't even know if I have enough energy to do it proper," he chuckled. "You'd have to do all the heavy lifting."

"That'd certainly tire me out," she mused. "Just talk to me a little while."

"Are you worried about going with Mercer to face Karliah?"

"I don't want to talk about Mercer or Karliah. No Guild business or talk of Brutus. I want to talk about you. What were you like as a boy?"

"Trouble," he said.

"So nothing's changed?"

"Nothing's changed," he groaned and stretched closer to her, his warmth radiating into her. "Well, I don't stand under the pier and try to look up the ladies' dresses anymore, so I guess that's changed."

She giggled and drew back to look at him. "Did you really do that?"

"Doesn't every lad? The bunkhouse used to be a bakery back then. Vipir and I would steal sweet rolls by the dozen and head down to the docks to gorge ourselves and try to catch a glimpse of the great unknown."

"Vipir grew up in the Cistern too?"

"Nah," he stifled a yawn. "Vipir came to Honorhall when he was six. His Da died in the Great War and his mother… I don't know, I guess she couldn't deal. She sent him out to play one afternoon and when he came home for supper, he found her dead. Poisoned herself, he thinks."

"That's awful," she gasped, lifting her head.

"And depressing," he decided. "Certainly not the kind of talk that promotes comfortable sleep and sweet dreams."

"We've all had such depressing lives," she lamented. "You, me, Rune, Thrynn, Sapphire, Cynric… even Ninruin's life was a bit depressing before he came to Skyrim."

"You should ask Delvin to tell you his story sometime, and don't even get me started on Vex."

"I don't think Vex likes me very much."

"I don't think Vex likes Vex very much, but trust me when I tell you, if she didn't want you around she'd make it clear. You do your jobs clean and you're bringing a lot of gold into the Guild. She'll probably never say it to your face, but she respects you."

"Good to know." His last yawn finally reached her, and she brought her arm up to cover it. "How did you get this scar?" She lowered her hand over his cheek, finger tracing along the jagged, upraised skin.

"Now that's a story to tell," he began. "I was in Dawnstar on a job, maybe ten or eleven years ago. This little house out in the middle of nowhere, looked completely rundown, like no one had lived there in an age or more. At first I thought Mercer gave me the wrong details, and then I figured maybe he'd sent me into a bandit den without telling me. So I sneak up under the windows to look inside, and my gods, the inside of this place may well have been a palace. Gold and jewels everywhere, nice dishes, silver flatware, antique candlesticks and just… it was a thief's wet dream, lass, let me tell ya. I give the place a complete once over, and I don't see anyone inside, no outdoor guard on patrol. This place is just sitting there, completely unprotected like the owners walked away thirty years ago and never looked back."

"Sounds nice," she mumbled, nestling her head deeper into the pillow.

"And I can't believe my luck. I mean, I'm there for a bloody book. Can you believe Mercer sends me to this place to retrieve a book for a client? I'm thinking to myself there's no way I'm walking out of there with just a book. I check again, doubling back to make sure I'm not missing something because this whole thing is just too good to be true, and you know what they say when something looks like it's too good to be true?"

"Probably is," Ginna yawned again.

"Damn right it probably is, but I still don't see anything. Not a living soul for miles, so I take a deep breath and hunker down in front of the door to pick the lock. It's already open. I must have been high on the potential of the place because I turned the knob and push the door open without thinking and trigger this trap right inside the door. I heard it release just in time to duck right, and if I hadn't, we wouldn't be here right now. Knocked me back and nearly took out my eye, but I'll be damned if I didn't walk out of that place with a concussion and everything of value I could carry."

"At least the payoff was worth it." She was getting tired, the sound of his voice lulling her closer and closer to sleep.

"Aye, and I got this handsome, roguish scar for my efforts."

"It is handsome. I like it," she decided. "Don't stop talking," she said. "I'm almost asleep. Tell me about the Nightingales."

"The Nightingales? Where did you hear about that?"

"It was in a book I found on the shelf downstairs."

"The Nightingales are just a story someone made up long ago to keep the young footpads in line."

"But what are they?"

"The legends say they are agents of Nocturnal. Avengers of Darkness who commit themselves to her service and in return receive her favor…" His tone was soft, drawing her further and further down the rabbit hole until even her dreams were narrated by the soothing sound of his voice.

Hundreds of black birds circled overhead, blocking out the light of the sun, the flutter of their wings raising against the backdrop of Brynjolf's voice until the last thing she heard was, "… just a legend, lass."

It was only a few hours, thick, heavy sleep with dreams she couldn't remember. She woke just around nine o'clock, to the sound of heavy rain and the scent of fresh air drifting in off the lake. The door was wide open and the bed empty. She didn't have to sit up to see him, standing on the deck in nothing but his loincloth, head lifted toward the sky, rain smattering his hair against his face and down his bare back.

"What are you doing?" she called.

"Washing away my sins," he laughed, turning in to face her. "Care to join me?"

"I don't think so," she drew the blankets around her and snuggled deeper into the bed's warmth. "My sins run too deep for water."

"So do mine, but a shower every now and again never hurt anyone. Come on, lass. Live a little." She watched him shake the beads of water from his hair, wet strands clinging to his cheeks as he grinned at her from the doorway. She felt one of them splash against her arm. "Don't make me come in there."

"Oh, all right," she threw the blankets aside and stepped out of bed, searching the floor for her undergarments.

Joining him on the deck, she worried for a minute that someone might see them from the docks below, but the lakefront was like a ghost town, completely void of life in so heavy a storm. Thunder cracked behind the mountains, so loud she actually jumped a little, but Brynjolf only laughed, his entire face alight with playful mischief as he lowered his wet arm across her back to draw her near.

"If this doesn't let up soon, I don't think either of us will be going anywhere today."

"Where were you going?"

"Over Ivarstead to do a job for Maven. I thought maybe we could travel together until the road splits west. We could set up camp on the roadside, have another night together before we go our separate ways."

"That would be nice," she leaned into him and tilted her face into the heavy sheet of rain passing over them. She'd only been outside for a few seconds, and already she was already soaked to the bone. "But if we travel by horseback, we'll cover the distance much quicker."

"Horses?" He glanced down on her. "Where the Void did you get horses?"

She shrugged, a shiver moving through her. "Heisted them from a farm in Solitude. Rune and I figured it'd get us home quicker than the carriage. They always go so slow."

"Only the best for my Ginna," he laughed. "Where are you keeping them?"

"The stables. I paid Hofgrir fifty septims to keep his mouth shut, but Rune says he only relented because he's interested in more than my gold."

"I'll crack that bastard's skull." Noticing that her teeth were already starting to chatter, he ducked back into the house and drew her with him. He yanked the blanket off the bed and wrapped it around them both, leading her toward the hearth as they dripped water all over the floors.

"I have no interest in Hofgrir, or anyone else for that matter, just so you know."

"So I probably shouldn't have led Marcurio out to meet with those Boethian cultists?" She watched him try to hide his smile while he gently rubbed the water from her skin, but he seemed to be having a very hard time keeping a straight face.

"I'm sure he'll be fine. He's a master of the arcane arts," she giggled.

She loved how easy it was to laugh with him, even when the weight of their entire world felt like it was pressing down hard on their shoulders. Gripping the damp blanket in his hands, he drew her body close to his, the wet fabric of their underclothes making her shiver again.

"We should get out of these wet clothes," he cocked an eyebrow.

"So that was your plan all along? Get me all wet and naked so I had no choice but to crawl back into bed with you where it's warm and dry?"

"Even you can't deny it was a good plan," he grinned.

They hung their wet things near the fire and Ginna found another blanket in the chest at the foot of the bed, which she spread over the mattress before shimmying back under the covers. While the rain flooded the lake and muddied the roads, they hid away from the world, making love and falling deeper into that tangled web of warm bliss that was growing more and more impossible to get out of.

"Bryn?" she nestled deeper into the crook of his arm and lowered her cheek to his bare shoulder.

"Hmm?"

"What did you mean last night when you said you wanted to be partners?"

"I like it when you call me Bryn." He nuzzled the tip of his nose against her temple. "It deludes me into thinking you're starting to trust me."

"Maybe I am."

"Would you say you trust me enough to be my partner?"

"Like a business partner?"

"Partners in business, partners in crime, partners in pleasure and everything else there is… for life."

"What does that even mean?"

"Isn't it obvious?"

"No," she corrected herself, "maybe. I don't know."

"I want to put a ring on your finger."

"A ring?"

"Aye."

"And what would that mean?"

"Come on, Ginna. I know people in Cyrodiil get married, but if you really need me to spell it out for you, it would mean we belong to each other," he said simply. "Everything I have would be yours. Everything you have would be mine because we're partners. I want to give you the world, Ginna."

"I always wanted the world," she mused, grinning.

"We could travel Skyrim together, and then to every corner of Tamriel, running cons and heists. And we would raise the Guild to glory again, together… you and me, and it would all be ours for the taking."

"I get the feeling Mercer wouldn't like the sound of that if he heard you say it."

"He'll want to retire soon enough. Mercer doesn't want to do this forever. No one does."

"I do," she admitted. "Even when I'm too old to remember where I left my lockpicks, this is all I want to do. And I think you do too."

"Aye," he agreed. "Larceny is in our blood, and I want to do it for the rest of my days with you."

"Don't you think it's a little early for that?" The fact that there was a part of her that wanted to leap at his offer was even scarier than the warmth and calm she felt when they were together. She'd never met anyone like him, never felt more comfortable and safe with another person. It was rash, yes, and crazy, but it felt right.

"Life is short, Ginna. Especially in our line of work. You've got assassins on your tail, and I can't even count the number of people out there who would love to put an end to me. Why would I want to waste time beating around the bush when I know that tomorrow could my last day?" He hesitated for a moment and then added, "Or yours."

"I have no intention dying tomorrow."

"And neither do I, but we don't control when the gods call us home."

"No," she sighed. "That is true."

"Look, lass, I'm not one for making rash decisions, but I'm not afraid to take risks either. I would rather take a risk with you, than spend the rest of my days regretting that I hadn't."

That made her smile, the dread-knot in her stomach loosening into soft flutters. Was that how those fictional, flighty women in Brienne's trashy books felt? Reckless and full of abandon? Ready to fly on a whim straight to the nearest altar and pledge eternal fidelity and companionship to one man.

When she didn't answer, he sighed. "I'm asking too much, aren't I?"

"No, Bryn." She opened her eyes again, met with his gaze. "I just… I don't know what to say."

"At least tell me you feel it too," he said, reaching between them and taking her hand. "Tell me it's not crazy that my last thought at night before I fall asleep, my first thought when I wake in the morning and every single thought in between is you… has been you since the moment I first laid eyes on you at the Embassy."

Squeezing his fingers, she drew his hand up to her lips and kissed across his knuckles. "I feel it too."

"Then why don't we do something about it?"

"Right now?"

"Why not?"

"There's work to be done," she reminded him. "For the Guild, for Maven…"

"All right," he released another breath that sounded like it was riddled with frustration. "Will you at least consider it?"

"I'm already considering it," she told him. "I'm sure it'll be all I think about while I'm gone. It'll distract me and I'll probably make mistakes and get myself killed."

"See, life is short, Ginna."

Grinning, she moved in and kissed him. "Life _is_ short, and when I come back from this job with Mercer… and I will come back… we'll begin this partnership of ours. All right?"

He answered her with a kiss, and then proceeded to make her wish there were no important jobs in their immediate future, no murder or confrontation of betrayal on the horizon, only time for them to fall into that warm tangled love-trap together until the world itself disappeared and just left them alone with each other.


	28. Chapter 28

The rain finally stopped sometime during the night, soaking into the ground enough that by morning all that remained of that perfect storm was the mud. Ginna and Brynjolf rose early enough that they were on the road north by seven, and standing at the crossroads where they were set to part ways just before noon.

They dismounted from their horses and stood near the road signs together, each looking down the roads they couldn't travel side-by-side before finally looking to each other. "You will think about it, won't you?"

"I'm thinking about it right now," she told him, lowering her eyes to the snow-covered ground beneath her feet. "It's all I've thought about since yesterday."

"Then making a decision shouldn't be difficult." He reached out to lift her chin, drawing her gaze up to meet with his.

"I've already decided in my heart," she said. "Maybe that's crazy, I don't know."

"Aye," he agreed. "Maybe it is, but even so…"

"Even so," she nodded. "I've never known anyone like you, Brynjolf. I've never felt comfortable or safe… but when I'm with you… I don't know. And just when my life couldn't get any more complicated, there you were."

"Here I am." He smiled, and bent to kiss her, a slow, lingering kiss that made her breath catch in her chest. Heart racing, warmth rushing to her face, she never wanted that kiss to end. For a moment his hand rested on her cheek when he drew back, the smile fading from his face. "Be careful, lass. Come back to me, all right?"

"Aye," she promised. "Eyes open," she said, turning to mount her steed.

"Walk with the shadows," he answered.

Ginna didn't look back after she rode away; she couldn't. For some reason it hurt too much to see him riding in the opposite direction, and not beside her and she hated the way she felt. Vulnerable, weak, as if the depth of their last few conversations had somehow doomed them both and she would never see him again. Several times, she had to lift her arm to swipe at the tears that burned in her eyes; she hated those too. She'd never cried over a man before in her life, no matter how much they'd all hurt her, and the worst part about it was that Brynjolf hadn't done anything to hurt her and there she was blubbering like a child.

Love. It was a fool's emotion, and yet no matter how hard she tried she couldn't stop feeling it.

She rode hard, all the way to Windhelm, where she stopped to make camp for the night. It was bitter cold, the biting wind nipping at her cheeks, slipping through every gap in her leather armor and freezing her to the bone, and though she was exhausted, she didn't linger long. It was dawn by the time she reached Snow Veil Sanctum and Mercer was already there, huddled in his armor and cursing under his breath.

"Good, you're finally here."

"Bad weather in Riften yesterday morning," she explained, climbing off her horse. "Roads were washed out."

She thought she saw his lip curl into a sneer. "Glad I left when I did then. Gave me time to scout the ruins."

"Did you find anything?"

"I'm fairly certain Karliah is still inside."

Ginna drew her pack from the back of the horse and opened the flap, digging inside for her emerald so she could put it in her pocket. "You saw her?" Even feeling among the stones Brynjolf had given her, it wasn't there. She drew them out to have a look, and then remembered she'd tucked it into her pants pocket while she and Rune were in Solitude. Maybe it was still there. Dropping the others into the pouch, she dug into her empty pocket and felt panic start to grip her. She checked all her pockets, even the ones she never put things in unless she really needed to, but it was nowhere to be found.

Had she lost it? Had it fallen out of her pocket in the house? Either way, not having it with her felt like a bad omen, but Mercer didn't even seem to notice her panic and she didn't think sharing her superstition with him was a good idea. It was too late to turn back now.

_Damn it._

"No, I found her horse. Don't worry, I've taken care of it. She won't be using it to escape."

"Right, good," she swallowed hard against her rising trepidation.

"Let's get moving," he said. "I want to catch her inside while she's distracted. You take lead."

"You want me to take the lead?" Her brow furrowed in confusion. Mercer didn't seem the type to let someone else lead and it threw her off even more.

"I'm sorry, I thought I was under the impression I was in charge."

"Which is why I thought you'd take the lead," she shot back.

"Your little defiance act might work with Brynjolf, but I'm immune to it. You're leading and I'm following. Does that seem clear to you?"

"Fine," she sighed. "Understood."

Ginna started up the lip of the tomb and he edge in behind her, saying, "Just make certain you keep your eyes open. Karliah is sharp as a blade. The last thing I need is you blundering into a trap and alerting her that we're here."

"I'm not stupid, Mercer," she huffed over her shoulder as she jaunted down the stairs.

"That remains to be seen," he mumbled.

Maybe she hadn't been in a whole lot of Nordic crypts in her lifetime, but she was still good at what she did. She knew the value of light feet, silence, shadow, and all three of those elements applied no matter the situation. On the other hand, she still found herself wishing she knew more about the situation, that she understood the motivation a little better. Brynjolf was right, sometimes there was no other explanation than insanity, but it all felt like it went much, much deeper than that.

"Mercer, tell me something," she started, taking the stairs more slowly. "How did Gallus die?"

He drew in a deep breath, chest puffing up at her back before he exhaled, the warmth of his breath fluttering through the hair on the back of her neck. "Twenty-five years ago, Gallus told me to meet him here, but he wouldn't say why. When I arrived, he stepped from the shadows, but before he could utter a single word an arrow pierced his throat. I started to draw my blade, but then a second arrow came from the darkness and found its mark in my chest."

"So Karliah took on both of you alone?" They'd arrived just outside the ruins, the lock on the door daunting as Ginna bent to study it. She'd never seen a lock like that in her life, and wasn't sure she'd be able to crack it.

"Karliah was a master marksman and her greatest weapon was the element of surprise. I was lucky… she missed my heart by mere inches. I staggered away from the ruins and my vision began to blur. It was only then that I realized that bitch had poisoned her arrows."

"And Gallus?"

"The last thing I saw was Karliah dumping his body into an opening atop the ruins. An unceremonious end for a remarkable man." He was quiet for a moment, almost thoughtful and then, "To this day I regret letting her escape. Even if it meant I had to die trying, I owed Gallus that much."

Ginna only nodded, returning her attention back to the door. It still didn't tell her much, didn't give her much in the way of reason to go on and she had a feeling Mercer didn't have the answers she was looking for either. Or if he did, he wasn't sharing them. It just felt like there was so much more to the story he wasn't letting on. Maybe she just wasn't asking the right questions.

"They say these ancient Nordic burial mounds are sometimes impenetrable." He slipped in behind her and leaned over her shoulder to have a look. "This one doesn't look too difficult, stand back." Ginna moved out of the way to give him a crack at it. "Quite simple, really. I don't know what all the fuss is about these locks. All it takes is a bit of know-how and a lot of skill." He worked his pick into the mechanism, twisting and turning until the gears inside began to shift. He stood back to admire his own handy work with a smirk. "That should do it. After you."

Ginna watched the locks fall away, and when she reached for the door it swung open with ease, the dense and acrid stench of old death wafting out to greet them as they stepped through.

"Ugh," Mercer groane at her back. "The stench in here," he complained. "This place smells of death. Be on your guard."

"For what, exactly?"

"Draugr, traps, both."

"Draugr?"

"The walking dead," he explained. "Dangerous and foul as any creature you've ever met."

"You mean zombies?"

In Cyrodiil, sometimes the Emperor imported the long-dead warriors of Skyrim to do battle with the gladiators in the arena. The first such display she'd seen had been as a girl, when Severus sent her and Brutus in to mingle among the bloodthirsty gamblers to pick pockets. While Brutus stood mesmerized, Ginna had nearly thrown up after watching a zombie tear a well-seasoned warrior limb from limb before turning his bloodied, gaping maw to leer at the crowd. She'd had nightmares for almost a month after that.

"Yes, like zombies. Keep your eyes open and your mouth shut."

"Yes sir," she mumbled under her breath, delving deeper into the catacombs.

Her first encounter with the draugr did little to strengthen her resolve against the hordes that followed. Dehydrated, ancient skin shriveled over strong bone, rotting teeth and wide, lidless eyes; the nightmares were certainly going to come back, she decided as they hacked and slashed their way through the walking dead and tried desperately to avoid the traps Karliah had reset for them in every single room of that old crypt. Heavy, spiked doors that swung after them when Mercer triggered the pressure plate, bone-chimes set to wake the dead. No matter how quietly they snuck, it seemed there was always one more monster just around the corner waiting to destroy them.

But Ginna kept her guard up, and though she'd never admit as much to him, Mercer was a pretty good swordsman. He was fast and deadly, dual-wielding his blades, but he knew his own skill just a little too well. He never shut up, constantly touting his own greatness, taunting the dead when they fell to his blades as if they actually cared that he'd bested them.

It felt like hours passed as they wound their way through the never ending traps and corridors, battling the draugr and nursing the occasional wound from a trap one of them set off. Ginna was starting to think Karliah wasn't even inside Snow Veil Sanctum anymore, and when they came to a puzzle door that required a claw to open it, she felt her arms drop at her sides in defeat.

"Without a claw, there's no way we're getting through that door."

"That's a common misconception," Mercer informed her, nudging her out of the way. "Karliah most likely did away with the claw, which means we're on our own. Fortunately, these old Nordic puzzle doors have a weakness if you know how to exploit it. Quite simple, really." He put his back between her and the door, working the keyhole in the center so she couldn't see what he was doing. Sneaky bastard, she thought, shaking her head when he stepped back, the rings spinning free and the heavy stone gate dropping down, spilling dust and debris into the air. "Karliah's close," he informed her. "I'm certain of it. Now let's keep moving."

Mercer lingered behind her, waiting for her to pass into the crypt. Ginna paused, turning her head to look inside, up the long set of stairs that led into a brightly lit sarcophagus. She took a step and then it hit her, an arrow in the shoulder, sinking deep into her flesh, but it wasn't pain from the arrow she felt. It was the dizziness, the world in front of her wavering and flashing like a storm as she fell in slow motion to the ground.

So… this was it? This was how she died.

She should have known the minute she realized her emerald wasn't with her; she had known it, had felt doom grip her in its grasp. And Rune had warned her in Solitude. Though he probably hadn't even realized how right he'd been when he'd said that telling Gulum-Ei who she was was practically an invitation for Brutus to come after her.

The conversation she had with Brynjolf… _I have no intention of dying tomorrow…_ Not as if running into the Temple of Mara and getting married would have saved her, but they would have had that one night. Gods. She'd promised to come back to him, promised they would start their partnership when she came back from this job.

She was paralyzed. Footsteps moved past her. Mercer stalking toward the stairs up ahead. For a moment everything went dark, her eyelids so heavy she could barely keep them open, but she managed to fight it long enough to see a sleek shadow descend those stairs. A woman with a bow in her hand, a full quiver of arrows on her back. She dropped into a fighter's stance, ready to pounce.

"Do you honestly think your arrow will reach me before my blade finds your heart?" Mercer drew his own blades, lifting them in challenge.

"Give me a reason to try," a soft voice answered.

"You're a clever girl, Karliah. Buying Goldenglow Estate and funding Honningbrew Meadery was inspired."

"To ensure an enemy's defeat, you must first undermine his allies," she said in that same calm, melodic tone. "It was the first lesson Gallus taught us."

"You always were a quick study."

"Not quick enough," she lamented. "Otherwise Gallus would still be alive."

Ginna was confused, her mind spinning and dancing around their exchange, trying to make sense of it all, but failing miserably.

"Gallus had his wealth and he had you. All he had to do was look the other way."

"Did you forget the oaths we took as Nightingales?" There was a slight hitch in her voice then. "Did you expect him to simply ignore your methods?"

"Enough of this mindless banter." Mercer's bellow echoed through the crypt and made Ginna's throbbing head pound. "Come, Karliah. It's time for you and Gallus to become reunited."

Mercer… It was Mercer. It had always been Mercer. He'd killed Brynjolf's family, Gallus and then he'd framed Karliah. All that time he'd acted so noble, caring for Brynjolf, training and feeding a young boy's hate until it festered in his soul, when all along he'd been the one who'd destroyed everything.

There was a bright flash of light and then she was gone, but her voice lingered. "I'm no fool, Mercer. Crossing blades with you would be a death sentence. But I can promise the next time we meet, it will be your undoing."

Mercer lingered for a moment and then he sheathed his blades. He turned toward Ginna and began stalking slowly toward her, swaggering with confidence as he approached. He hovered over her, staring down at her with his head cocked, eyes gleaming with spite.

"How interesting." His grin was pure hate. "It seems Gallus's history has repeated itself. Karliah has provided me the means to be rid of you and this ancient tomb becomes your final resting place. Your friends in Cyrodiil will compensate me nicely. Everything is coming up in my favor, but with Lady Luck always on my side, I expected no less."

Ginna couldn't move, couldn't speak.

"But you know what intrigues me the most?" he asked, leaning down to look into her eyes. "The fact that all this was possible because of you." Mercer drew his blade, the malice twisting his face. "Farewell, Ginna. I'll be certain to give Brynjolf your regards."

The blade went in quick; it was cold as a scream in the darkness, but Ginna only lay there feeling her own warmth spilling out into a puddle beneath her body. Mercer stood over her a moment, watching her die. Eyelids growing heavier, heavier, breath becoming shorter, life slipping, dripping away. Mercer turned his back on her, the sound of his footsteps the last thing she would ever hear.

But her last thoughts would be of Brynjolf. The warmth of his arms around her, the sound of his laughter, his voice carrying her off to sleep, the feel of his lips brushing softly against hers.

At least she'd had it for a moment. Love. Beautiful, comfortable, familiar, warm, safe… Perfect.

And then her world went dark.


	29. Chapter 29

"Easy," a soft voice fluttered through the darkness as Ginna struggled against its grip on her. "Easy," she repeated. "Don't try to get up so quickly."

Ginna blinked through the murky haze, into the shadows were a soft pair bright, violet eyes were waiting for her to make contact. "What… where am I?"

"Snow Veil Sanctum," she said. "How are you feeling?"

"Like death." Her mouth was dry, her throat aching, and despite the frigid wind that whipped snow around them, Ginna's body felt like it was on fire.

"You've been mostly dead all day," she smiled, a gentle gesture meant to calm her. When Ginna looked up at the sky, it was dark and she wondered how much time had passed. "What do you remember?"

Mercer… his blade twisting into her body. The pain, the pleasure of betrayal in his eyes. Brynjolf… How long had she been out? Had Mercer already flown back to Riften on her horse to tell Brynjolf she was dead? Would he betray her memory? Tell the Guild she'd tried to kill him? Weave some web of lies that she'd been working with Karliah all along?

Karliah…

"Wait," Ginna tried to sit up again, ignoring the nausea, the spinning throb in her head. "You shot me."

"No," she shook her head. "I saved your life. My arrow was tipped with a unique paralytic poison. It slowed your heart and kept you from bleeding out. Had I intended to kill you, we wouldn't be having this conversation, Ginna."

"You know my name," she whispered, lowering her head back to the ground.

"Yes," she nodded. "I know everything about you."

"And yet, I live," she noticed.

"I've no reason to kill you." Karliah dropped down to sit on the frozen ground beside the bedroll where Ginna lay. "My original intention was to use that arrow on Mercer, but I never had a clear shot. He hid behind you like the coward he is. I made a split second decision to get you out of the way and it saved your life."

"Then I am in your debt."

"You have no idea," she sighed. "The poison on that arrow took me a year to perfect. I only had enough for a single shot and I used it on you. All I had hoped was to capture Mercer alive."

"Mercer betrayed you," Ginna said, lifting a hand into her hair. "Why would you want him alive?"

"Mercer must be brought before the Guild to answer for his crimes," she explained, crossing her legs underneath her. "He needs to pay for what he's done, for Beigan and Hekja, for Gallus."

"But how can we prove it? That man is a snake. There's no telling what he's told the Guild about me. I came with enough baggage of my own, it'll be easy for him to turn them against me. Even Brynjolf." That stung, and the more she thought about it, the harder it was to bear. He'd trusted her so easily; would he question that now? Lay awake at night wondering what kind of lies she'd told him from the start? If every kiss had been part of her plot to betray him and his Guild?

"Brynjolf is a smart man, but he worships Mercer and convincing him that the man who fostered him after all those tragedies he faced won't be easy," Karliah said, glancing down at her hands, which she twisted almost nervously in her lap. "But my purpose in using Snow Veil Sanctum to ambush Mercer wasn't purely for irony's sake. Before both of you arrived, I recovered a journal from Gallus's remains and I suspect the information we need is written inside."

Ginna started to sit upright again, head throbbing in agony. "Then we need to take that journal to Brynjolf right away."

"I'm afraid it won't be that simple," she brought the journal out of her pack and turned back the cover. "It was written in some kind of language I've never seen before."

Closing her eyes, she felt her head shaking back and forth and for a moment her body seemed to move with it, as if she were floating out to sea. "Do you think it could be translated, maybe?"

"Enthir," she brightened with hope. "Of course."

"Who is Enthir?"

"Gallus's friend at the College of Winterhold. Enthir was the only outsider Gallus trusted with his Nightingale identity."

"Nightingale," Ginna murmured. "There's that word again."

"Yes. There were three of us," Karliah started. "Myself, Gallus and Mercer. We were an anonymous splinter of the Thieves Guild in Riften. I planted that book in your house in hopes that you would begin to ask questions, perhaps piecing things together no one else had because they'd all been steeped for far too long in Mercer's lies. But now is not the time. Perhaps I'll tell you more about it one day, but for now you should rest, regain your strength and when you're feeling better, I need you to take Gallus's journal to Winterhold and seek out Enthir. Maybe he can translate it."

"You won't come with me?" Ginna didn't know why, but she trusted Karliah. It was something in her gut; maybe the similarity of their situations. Both branded as murderers, driven out of their Guild, hunted and betrayed.

"I'm afraid not," she looked away, long lashes lowering over her cheeks. "There are preparations to make and Gallus's remains to finally lay to rest. I promise to join you there as soon as I can."

"I can't waste any time," she tried to sit up again, but her body was still so weak. "If Mercer… Brynjolf… my friends could be in danger."

"Yes," she agreed. "Mercer is a madman, Ginna. You have no idea the extent of his crimes, how far he is willing to go to get what he wants."

"He murdered Brynjolf's family, killed Gallus in cold blood. Framed you and ran his blade through me. I have a pretty good idea of how far Mercer's willing to go to see to his wants."

"Then you know as well as I do the seeds he will sow against us. If you or I rushed into the Ratway right now, not a single one of them would believe us and you know it." She did know it, because if it was her, she wouldn't believe either. "The only way is to get Gallus's journal translated so we have the proof we need to protect them from him."

"Tell me about Gallus," she rolled onto her side and drew her legs up a little to try and make herself more comfortable. Some of the dizziness was fading, but her stomach was still unsettled, her head still throbbing.

"He was a scholar, a master thief and a natural leader. Everyone respected and followed him without question." Karliah leaned back a little, her face soft with fond memory. "It was Gallus who inducted me into the Nightingales and honed my skills to a razor sharp point. I owe everything I am to him. We were… very close."

Ginna swallowed against the ache rising up the back of her throat. "You were lovers," she whispered, her heart aching for Brynjolf.

"Gallus once said he felt comfortable around me." Those words reminded Ginna of her own conversation with Brynjolf just days earlier. Had it really just been days? It felt like years since last she'd looked into his eyes, felt his hair whispering against her face as he came down into her, breathing her name, making her feel weak and exposed and yet so comfortable and safe. "Able to let his guard down. I can't help but think that I'm responsible for what happened to him."

"No, Karliah." Ginna reached over and laid a hand on the other woman's arm. Brynjolf had made her let her guard down, but it wasn't his fault what Mercer had done. "Mercer is responsible for what happened to Gallus. You can't blame yourself."

"Perhaps not," her mouth twitched and tightened. "But I always do. I always will. Until the day I see Mercer pay for the things he's done, when I know Gallus can rest in peace, maybe then that guilt will go away."

"We will get Mercer," Ginna said, tightening her grip just a little. "And he will pay… for everything."

"Rest now." Karliah lifted her hand to lay over Ginna's, patting gently before she withdrew to leave her to sleep.

And though her mind was a whirlwind she didn't think would every stop spinning through the tangled thoughts within it, as soon as she closed her eyes it was like a veil of darkness dropped over her. She slept, long, hard, without dreaming until the sun's cruel light pried her from that dark, comfortable place at dawn.

Karliah had recovered her satchel from the Sanctum, and everything was still inside. Her potions, her tools, her gold, the emeralds Brynjolf had given her. She scooped them out into her palm and studied them in the morning light, her heart aching as she closed her fingers around them for a few minutes and then dropped them into her pocket. They didn't feel the same, the familiar warmth and cut of the emerald she'd carried as long as she could remember lost, but the three in her hand were special too. Someone who loved her had given them to her; they would have to be her luck now.

She hadn't heard Karliah approach from behind, lingering over her shoulder and watching that strange ritual unfold. "I watched him grow up from the shadows, that little boy I used to sing to sleep. What kind of man is he?"

"A con-artist, a brilliant pickpocket, quick with a laugh or a song," she said, her mouth twitching with a slow grin. "He's a good man."

"You love him."

"I didn't think I was capable of loving anyone until I met him," she admitted. "He trusted me, right from the start. Said he could read people… that he knew everything he'd ever need to know about me, except my name, but he was wrong."

"No, Ginna," Karliah assured her. "He wasn't wrong. As a boy, he had no choice but to trust in Mercer Frey. Mercer protected him, kept him safe, gave him purpose. He is blind by his unfailing love for the man who kept him in the only place he'd ever called home when all he loved was lost."

"He asked me to marry him, to be his partner," Ginna exhaled. "And I told him we would start our life together when I came back from this job, but now…"

"This job isn't over, Ginna, not by a longshot."

"Then I guess I should get to it."

"I will meet you in Winterhold as soon as I finish my business here," she promised. "Shadows hide you."

"And you, my friend."


	30. Chapter 30

Ginna knew it probably would have been easier to travel straight to Winterhold from Snow Veil Sanctum, but Winterhold was an empty city and in her weakened state, she needed another horse. Mercer had taken hers; she'd expected as much, but it didn't keep her from cursing his name on the long, bitter walk to Windhelm, the cold cutting through to her bones and making the healed wound in her shoulder ache. She had known from the moment she met him something wasn't right about Mercer Frey. He'd reminded her of Brutus, calculating, arrogant, almost cruel in his nature; she should have listened to her gut instinct.

_Always listen to your gut_. One of Severus's earliest lessons.

It was too late to go back and change it now.

It was nightfall when she came upon the city of Windhelm, and though she knew the matter at hand was more urgent than anything she'd ever seen to, she was still weak. She pushed through the city gates and asked a Dunmer woman just inside the walls where she could take rest and fill her empty belly. At first the woman was taken aback by Ginna's approach, asking if she shared the Nordic opinion that the elves had no place in Skyrim, but then softened when Ginna explained that she wasn't from Skyrim.

She directed her to Candlehearth Hall, which rested in the daunting shadow of the Palace of the Kings. Making her way through the Stormcloak soldiers that filled the streets, she entered the tavern and ordered food and drink from the woman behind the counter before paying ten septims for a room. After showing her to her room, Ginna made her way up the stairs to sit at one of the tables and listen to the bard sing.

She sang of oppression and honoring Ulfric, the true High King of Skyrim, of Sovngarde and death, and though Ginna still didn't claim to understand the whole point of the war in Skyrim, she couldn't deny the song moved her a little. Maybe she was just tired.

Leaning her back into the chair, the shadow that fell over her right shoulder caught her off guard and she jerked her head around to find a tall, dark-haired man with more muscle than she ever thought one human capable of building. "I am so tired of that gods damned song," he muttered, more to himself than to her. "I'll give you ten septims to take a break," he called to the bard.

"My voice could use a rest," she conceded when the song was done.

"Good, my ears could use a rest," he grumbled.

Ginna looked up at that man, confused by his obvious lack of support for Ulfric's cause despite the fact that he was decked out in full Stormcloak armor, ragged and stained in the blood of battle. He looked rough, unshaven, unkempt, the stringy locks of brown hair that hung around his face half-tucked behind one ear, but he had the most intense and piercing blue eyes Ginna had ever seen. He tipped back his tankard and gulped down several swallows of whatever he was drinking, and then lowered the empty mug at his side.

"Farkas, you're back," a high-pitched female voice called from the stairs behind the hearth. "How goes the war? When did you get in?"

"About an hour ago, and the war still goes. Ulfric says we'll march on Solitude soon, but he's been saying that for months." He walked toward the young woman, the two of them slipping back down the stairs together and leaving Ginna alone in the hall for a while.

People came in and out the side door, mingling, drinking, whispering about all the young girls who'd been murdered in the city. One of them, a handsome, retired sailor warned her to be on her guard in the city streets; Windhelm wasn't safe for young women. He was wearing fine clothes, and by the looks of his heavy pockets, they were teaming with coin and valuables ripe for the picking, but Ginna let alone.

It was probably the first time she'd sat in such a place without treating herself to the treasures in other people's pockets, and quite of few of them looked as though they had very interesting pockets. She wasn't even tempted. She was too tired to steal; maybe she had a fever.

She finished her mead and then headed down the stairs to the room she'd rented. She locked the door and looked around. It was a nice enough room, much nicer than the one she'd stayed in at the Bee & Barb. Brynjolf would have teased her if he could have seen her there.

Thinking of him made her heart ache, and even though she was completely exhausted, when she crawled into bed her mind just kept turning. What if there was no way to translate Gallus's journal, or what if Gallus's final words did nothing to exonerate Karliah from the crimes Mercer had framed her with? What if his journal did provide evidence of Mercer's betrayal, but Brynjolf still didn't believe that everything she'd ever felt with him, everything she'd said to him, had been true?

Maybe she should just run away. Find that island and sink into the sand to be forgotten forever.

But no… There was no running away from the way she felt. She had a feeling that no matter what happened, she would never be able to walk away from Brynjolf; even if Mercer turned him against her and made him hate her.

Her dreams that night were filled with the walking dead, their bulging eyes and hungry jaws snapping at her as they reached in to tear her limb from limb. They tugged and they pulled her in every direction until they turned into birds, sharp beaks nipping at her flesh, devouring her bit by bit until she woke with a startled gasp just before dawn.

As she consulted her map to get a clear idea of how long the journey to Winterhold would take, she thought seriously about stealing another horse, but when she approached the stables the horsemaster was already out and tending to his beasts even though the sun had barely risen. She had enough gold, more than enough thanks to that last job she'd done for Mercer and those rare treasures she'd sold to Delvin. For the first time in her life, she paid for her ride and as she parted with that hard-earned gold, she felt conflicted.

She could almost hear Brynjolf asking her what she would do when she ran out of gold? Shouldn't she save it for a rainy day? If her life hadn't become one big rainy day, she didn't know what else to think about it.

Steering onto the northwestern road, she took comfort in knowing that for a time she would be safe from Brutus. Mercer had sold her out, and had likely reported back to Brutus that she was dead. And so it was truly as a ghost she traveled. A dead woman on the road that no one needed to bother with.

Winterhold was even colder than Windhelm, which she hadn't thought possible, but the bitter winds riding in off the Sea of Ghosts mingled with the blizzard that carried her into a silent city. The cold set into her bones, made her shoulder throb and ache in the place Mercer's blade had pierced her. She tethered her horse outside the inn and stared up at the overwhelming castle that loomed from above. She knew nothing about the mage's college, or how she would gain entry to find this Enthir person Karliah had sent her to search for.

And then Nocturnal smiled on her. Or maybe it was the Daedric Prince of coincidence, she didn't know, but she'd never been happier to see a familiar face in her life. He was sitting at one of the tables sipping brandy and hadn't even looked up when she came in, but she recognized him right away.

"Marcurio?" She stepped up behind him and he turned his head over his shoulder upon hearing his name, the long ponytail of golden-brown hair falling down his back.

"Oh…" His golden-amber eyes did not smile, not the way they had the first time he'd met her, or even the second time. "It's you."

"What are you doing all the way up here?"

"If you must know, I was attending a meeting at the College, not that it's any of your business."

"I probably deserve that," she admitted, sinking down onto the bench beside him. He scooted over a little, as if he didn't want to get near her and she wondered for a moment if Brynjolf had actually threatened him. "Look, I'm sorry about the way I treated you the last couple of times I saw you."

"I see…" He narrowed his eyes over her suspiciously. "What do you want? I'm incredibly busy and don't have time for being social."

"I… I want to hire you." She looked down at the table and ignored the sound of Brynjolf's voice in the back of her mind. _I don't think I've never met a thief who liked to throw their money around the way you do_.

"Do you now?" he almost snorted his disbelief. "What do you take me for? Some kind of fool?"

"No, I'm completely serious. I need your help."

Lifting his hand to stroke the patch of hair beneath his bottom lip, his fingers tugged through it as he leaned back to study her. "You really are serious, aren't you?"

"Yes, I am really serious. Look, I don't have much left, but I'll pay you double if you want me to."

His hand dropped slowly to the tabletop, lips twisting as he mulled that over. "Double, you say?"

"A thousand gold septims." Ginna reached into her bag and drew a heavy sack out onto the table. She pushed it over in front of him without flinching and watched his dark eyebrows knit together.

"I don't know about this." He started to reach for the bag. "This smells like a trap. What's the catch? Have you got your merry band of thugs waiting outside to kill me, because I can promise you that I won't hold back my formidable power if I'm forced to use it."

"I just need help." If he had even half a notion of how hard it was for her to ask for it, he probably wouldn't have had doubts, but Marcurio knew very little about her at all. She'd never given him a chance. "It's just me here. No one's waiting outside to kill you," she sighed. "And I'm already dead, so…"

"What do you mean, you're already dead?"

"It's a long story." She lowered her head.

"Well then, you'd better start telling it…"

"I can't," she raised her stare to meet with his, soft blue eyes pleading. She must have looked so pathetic. "I thought mercenaries weren't supposed to ask questions."

"Normally, we don't, but then normally I don't associate with clients I already know I can't trust."

"Look, are you going to help me or not? If not, I need to know now so I can try to find another way to work this out on my own."

Marcurio drew in a deep breath, chest puffing out as he roved those golden eyes over her face before lifting them to focus on hers again. "All right," he agreed with a sigh. "I'll help you, but if I even so much as suspect you're up to something… tricky, I won't hesitate in roasting you alive where you stand."

"Sounds pleasant."

"I promise you it won't be. Now what do you need?"

"Well, for starters, I'm looking for a mage."

"You're sitting with one right now. One of the best to be precise."

"No, a specific mage. Don't all you mages know each other, or something?"

Scoffing, his eyes arced upward and he reached for his brandy. "That's like assuming every Dunmer knows every Altmer and Bosmer just because they all have pointed ears."

"Right, anyway… I'm looking for a mage by the name of Enthir…"

"Enthir?" Marcurio glanced back over his shoulder into the corner of the quiet inn. "You mean that Enthir?"

She followed the length of his finger into that corner where a lone, Bosmer mage sat hunched over a book, fingers curled around a tarnished mug. "That's him?"

"It's the only mage I know named Enthir."

Ginna rose from her seat and started toward him, Marcurio pushing up to curiously follow. "Excuse me," she said as she approached. "Are you Enthir?"

"Yes, yes. What can I help you with?"

"My name is Ginna. I've been sent by Karliah."

"Karliah?" The elf's eyes widened and he drew back in deep thought, almost muttering to himself. "Then she's finally found it. Do you have Gallus's journal?"

"Yes," she nodded. "I do, but there's a bit of a problem."

"A problem? What sort of problem? Let me see it?" While Ginna dug into her satchel to retrieve the journal, Enthir went on talking. "All those years, it's probably faded."

"No, not quite." She drew it out and handed it over to him. "It's written in some strange language neither of us recognized. She thought perhaps you might be able to determine what it says."

She watched as Enthir opened the pages and began leafing through them. "Ahh, this is just like Gallus," he laughed. "A dear friend, but always too clever for his own good."

"Who's Gallus?" Marcurio leaned in over her shoulder, pushing himself up just a little too close to her. Ginna looked back at him, blinking and lifting her eyebrows in a silent plea for him to back off. He took a step back and huffed as if it had been her crowding him.

"Don't worry about it," she told him, returning her attention to Enthir. "Can you read it?"

"He's written all of the text in the Falmer language."

"Falmer? You mean the Snow Elves?"

"That's exactly what I mean." He closed the book and reached for his mug again.

"Can you translate it?"

"No," he shook his head. "However, I know someone who might."

"All right, who?"

"The court wizard in Markarth, Calcelmo. He may have the materials you need to get this journal translated."

"Markarth," she pinched her lips tight together. Didn't it figure getting the evidence she needed wouldn't be as easy as a simple trip to find a mage in Winterhold? The longer she was away from Riften, the harder it was going to be to convince Brynjolf of her innocence when the time came. She was never gladder than she was at that moment that she'd traveled into Windhelm for that horse.

"A word of warning," Enthir went on. "Calcelmo is a fierce guardian of his research. Getting the information we require will not be easy."

"Of course it won't," she sighed. "Any ideas on ways I might be able to persuade or convince him? This is more important than you could ever imagine."

"Calcelmo always was a bit of an ego," Enthir noted. "And with good reason, I suppose. He's the authority on Dwemer culture, and no one else in Skyrim can even begin to match his knowledge. Appeal to that if possible. It may not persuade him completely, but it will definitely get you into his good graces."

"Thank you. I will remember that." She reached for the journal and opened it to the first page again, studying the strange symbols inside. "Enthir, tell me something. Why would Gallus transcribe his journal in the Falmer language?"

"The Falmer have a language?" Marcurio edged his way into the conversation again, but before Ginna could shoot him another look, Enthir answered her question.

"Besides the fact that there are only a handful of people in Tamriel who even recognize the language? I'm fairly certain he was planning some sort of heist that involved a deep understanding of the Falmer language. Sadly, we never had the opportunity to speak about the details."

"Where did he acquire the knowledge to use that language?"

"Ironically, I pointed him in the same direction I just pointed you, to Markarth and Calcelmo. I'm only hoping whatever means he used to learn the language will still be available to you."

"I hope so too."

"Gallus was a dear friend of mine," Enthir said softly. "And a surprisingly astute pupil of academia. I was devastated when he was killed. I suppose that risk always exists in your… line of work. I just never imagined his luck would run out."

Ginna drew in a breath, remembering the sorrow she'd seen in Karliah's bright, lavender eyes, feeling Enthir's sadness then too. "None of us ever think our luck will run out, but Karliah and I are going to turn this all around. We may not be able to bring Gallus back, but…"

"But it seems like some of that bad luck may be turning itself around already," he noted. "Karliah's been on her own for a lot of years. She's lucky to finally have someone she can trust on her side."

"Come on, Marcurio." She turned away and began heading for the door.

"Where are we going?"

"Markarth," she said without looking back. "To find another wizard."


	31. Chapter 31

Marcurio used the money she'd paid him to buy a horse from a farmer just outside of town, and they rode at a steady pace side by side. Traveling with Rune had spoiled Ginna. She realized that long before she and Marcurio left the hold of Winterhold to make their way south toward Whiterun. And she'd thought Brynjolf liked to ramble and boast. Marcurio never shut up. Amidst the endless stream of bragging there were questions, always questions.

_Is Ginna your real name, or just some alias you throw around to keep people off your tail? Who's Gallus? What was in that journal? Where did you get it? Who's Karliah? Why are we going to Markarth? Why did you say you were already dead? I can't believe you're involved with Brynjolf. He's a real brute, you know. He threatened to have me drawn and quartered. Did you know that? You must have known. You must like the dangerous ones. I can be dangerous, you know? There's nothing in the world more dangerous than destruction magic. Are you really a thief? You're not going to steal from me, are you? How do you live with yourself, taking people's hard-earned money? Hey, is that a dragon up there? I fought a dragon once and I defeated it. Frankly, I don't see what all the fuss is about. Everyone in a panic over nothing. Are you hungry? I'm hungry. We should stop at the next inn and see about some food. Have you ever been to Markarth? The Forsworn are dangerous. If at any time you feel afraid while we're on the road, take comfort in knowing I'm here…_

And on and on and on until she started to wish she'd learned enough magic to silence people with little more than a look. But he seemed so excited to be traveling with her, on some grand adventure he didn't even know the details of, and she started to wonder just how often Marcurio actually got out of Riften. She let him blather on, mostly ignoring him, thinking about the task at hand, thinking about Brynjolf.

What had Mercer told him? Did he think her dead or believe her traitor? Maybe both?

Gods, she just wanted it all to be over and for the odds to come out in her favor. They were supposed to be turning their bad luck streak around together, not sinking deeper into the mire alone.

"I always thought thieves were a much rowdier bunch," Marcurio noted on the road just past Whiterun. "At least all those thugs you keep company with in Riften are, but not you. You're quiet."

"I'm a ghost," she said softly. "Ghosts make no sound."

"Well, that's cryptic," he decided. "Are you ever going to tell me what is going on?"

"I didn't pay you to be my confidante, Marcurio. I paid you to travel with me and roast my enemies alive, if need be. And I paid you quite handsomely, so a little quiet would be appreciated."

"I bet you never tell Brynjolf to be quiet," he muttered.

"So what if I don't? I don't have to pay Brynjolf to watch my back, he just does. Look, I don't think this is going to work out. You can keep the gold I gave you and just go back to doing whatever it was you were doing before I found you, okay?"

"I don't think so." Stubborn and ridiculous. "You paid me to do a job, and I'm going to do it."

"Then do it more quietly," she pleaded. "I have a lot on my mind I'm trying to work through and I can't think with you babbling on and on like a hen."

"At least tell me what you mean when you say you're a ghost. That's the second time now you've made reference to being dead, and to tell the truth it's a little disturbing. Necromancy, eww." He shuddered.

"Will it shut you up for awhile?"

"I can't make any promises," he said. "I like to talk."

Groaning, she didn't even know why she was considering telling him. Only that sharing some of her burden with Rune and Brynjolf had made the burden feel lighter and she was getting tired. She highly doubted sharing anything with Marcurio would ever make her feel better, but the weight was growing heavier and heavier with every step she took.

"People keep stabbing me in the back," she said. "People I'm supposed to be able to trust, and right now everyone I know thinks I'm dead. So that makes me a ghost. Which is ironic, really, because when I was a girl in Cyrodiil, that was my Guild name. Ghost."

"What's a Guild name?"

"An identity you assume to avoid using your real name when interacting with less-than-savory people."

"Interesting. So, who killed you and made everyone believe you're dead? Though now that I've said that, it sounds completely absurd." He mulled over that for a bit and then returned his brilliant gaze to her. "It was Brynjolf, wasn't it? That thug! I always knew he was a murderer."

"Brynjolf is not a murderer," she felt her jaw clench. "Despite what you might think of him, he's a good man."

"If you think bullying people into handing over their hard-earned money for false protection makes a good man, maybe I'm in the wrong business."

"Every trade has its place in this world," she defended. "Mages, warriors, mercenaries, kings, nobles, bandits, jarls, merchants, assassins, thieves. We all play our role. It's the way of things. It has always been the way of things."

"Maybe things need to change."

"Maybe we need less mages and mercenaries in the world."

"Touché," he yielded. For a time after that, he was actually quiet and Ginna reveled in that silence. Even when he broke it to say, "You know, you act all tough and rogue, but I bet under that self-made shield of ice, you're a warm and generous person."

Sneering back at him, she shook her head. "Shut up, Marcurio."

He smiled, and didn't say anything else for the rest of the afternoon.

It took them three days to make the journey to Markarth by horse, and when they arrived, it was to a bizarre skirmish in the market that ended with some poor woman's death, a madman screaming out, "The Reach will be ours!" before running a blade through her back.

"My word, this place is awful," Marcurio balked, edging up beside her and pushing her away from the melee as the guards swept in to try and take control of the situation. "I'd heard tell of Forsworn uprisings in the city, but I never imagined…"

"We're not here to worry about the Forsworn. We're here to meet with a wizard."

"Still, be on your guard. I don't like the smell of this place."

"Blood and silver, my friend," a rough man leaning against the wall overheard their conversation and pushed himself into the middle of it.

"Excuse me?"

"Blood and silver, it's what runs through this city, and you'd be wise not to forget that."

"Right," she nodded, grabbing Marcurio's sleeve and drawing him away from the strange man.

They were barely past him when a Vigilant of Stendarr called out. "Excuse me, do you know anything about this house?"

"No, I'm afraid not."

"Shame, no one seems to."

Pushing up the stairs, it seemed impossible to reach the keep without everyone and their child stopping to make conversation. Dragons sighted up near Hag's End. A new Sibel of Dibella. Rumors of strange dreams up in Dawnstar. Ginna ignored as much of it as possible, grateful when they finally passed through the doors of Understone Keep.

She was a bit taken aback to see the hulking, dark-haired Stormcloak soldier from Candlehearth Hall lingering in the hallway with his arms crossed, nodding at an old Nord talking about honor and freedom and the righteousness of Ulfric's cause. He looked completely bored and kept glancing toward the stairs as if he were waiting for someone to save him. For a moment, their gazes met and it seemed as if he recognized her too.

Shaking away the bizarre coincidence, they marched forward only to be stopped by a pair of guards.

"The jarl isn't receiving any visitors. If you have business in Markarth, take it up with his steward."

"I'm here to see the court wizard, actually."

"Ah, well, in that case, turn left and make a right at the end of the hall. You'll find Calcelmo out near the ruins. Fair warning, the old mage doesn't like to be bothered, so keep that in mind."

"Thanks."

"So this wizard is going to translate your journal?" Marcurio asked, following her through the stone ruins of Understone Keep.

"No, he's going to let me look at his research so I can take it back to Enthir and then he's going to translate it."

"Wouldn't it just be easier to have this Calcelmo guy translate it?"

"Maybe we don't want Calcelmo reading the journal," she rolled her eyes at him, catching a glimpse of several Altmer soldiers marching through the keep behind a Thalmor justiciar. It was the first Thalmor she'd seen since Elenwen's Embassy soiree, and for a moment she had a deep longing for home, for the comfort and safety she'd always felt among the Aldermi Dominion's presence.

"…why everything has to be a big secret with you people," Marcurio drew her back to herself and she glanced toward the wizard leaning over an enchanting table below the entrance to Nchuand-Zel.

"It just does, now keep your teeth together and let me do all the talking, got it?"

"You lead, I'll follow."

"Thank you."

Calcelmo was already yelling at her before he turned around to face them, leaning over the enchanting table as he did so, and Ginna wondered how he could still be connected to the work he was doing while raising such a ruckus. Enchanting was an acquired skill, something she still had trouble with and she couldn't begin to imagine breaking her concentration to bellow at anyone while doing it.

"Look, I'm very busy, so this better be important."

"Sir, we're looking for Calcelmo."

"What are you doing? The excavation site is closed. I don't need any more workers or guards."

"I'm looking for Calcelmo," she repeated.

"I've already told you, I don't need to hire anymore guards. Why do you people insist on bothering me while I try to finish my research? You idiot! Do you even know who I am? The most recognized scholar on the Dwemer in all of Tamriel and you people won't stop bothering me!"

"So, you must be Calcelmo then," and with an ego bigger than Marcurio's. Maybe she should have let _him_ do all the talking.

"I… I'm sorry. I… I got too excited. I'm in the middle of some very stressful work and I shouldn't have lost my temper. How can I help you?"

"I've heard you are the authority on ancient Falmer."

"Then you were well informed." He pushed off the enchanting table, lowering the hood of his robes. Another Altmer. "I am at this very moment on the cusp of completing my magnum opus on the subject."

"Splendid," Ginna sighed pre-emptory relief. Maybe this wasn't going to be as difficult as she'd thought.

"I'm calling it _Calcelmo's Guide to the Falmer Tongue_. It will revolutionize the way we understand those ancient beings."

"Do you think I could have a look at your work?"

"Preposterous!" And back to the yelling. "That research represents years of personal toil in some of the most dangerous Dwemer ruins in Skyrim! You must be mad to think I'd allow anyone to see it before it's finished."

Marcurio pushed her aside and stepped up to meet him. "Calcelmo, sir, I just wanted to take a moment to let you know I am a huge admirer of your work. I've read every volume of your lengthy study on the Dwarven culture and society." So much for standing back and letting her do all the talking. "In fact, it's how my lovely wife and I found each other. I'm something of an authority on Dwemer culture myself and as an adventurer looking to delve into the Dwemer ruins, she came to me for guidance. It was love at first sight."

Ginna felt her fists clenching at her sides, her elbow ramming into his ribs on instinct, but he kept going as if he hadn't even noticed. Calcelmo certainly hadn't. His face brightened with intrigue and wonder as Marcurio went on with his story.

"The two of us just returned from our most recent endeavor. Mzinchaleft. After our encounters with the Falmer there, well… you understand our desire to expand our knowledge on the subject."

"Mzinchaleft is one of the most dangerous ruins I've ever been to," Calcelmo sympathized. "How could I possibly deny fellow scholars such as yourselves? I'll tell you what. My Falmer research is simply just not ready for the public yet, but here, take this key and go take a stroll through my Dwemer Museum. I'm sure you'll both appreciate it." He handed Marcurio the key and added, "Only the Dwemer Museum. I can't have strangers, even astute scholars such as the two of you, in my laboratory."

"Of course not, sir, and can I just say, thank you? You're a generous soul, to share your wisdom with those who only dream to scale the heights of your immense knowledge on these lost subjects."

"Your wife?" Ginna muttered as they hustled away from the ruins and toward the Dwemer Museum across the keep.

"What, I was thinking on the fly? And I did a damn good job of it, if I do say so myself."

"Where did you learn to bullshit like that?"

"You think I've learned nothing in my time in Riften? Con or be conned."

"Honestly, Marcurio, I'm impressed," she admitted, hiking up the stairs. "I didn't think you had it in you."

"You're welcome," he said.

"Stop right there," the guard at the top of the stairs stepped down to meet them. "The Dwemer Museum is closed and currently off-limits to visitors. If you want to go in, you'll have to talk to the museum owner."

"We've just come from Calcelmo," Marcurio held up the key. "He gave my wife and I permission to explore the museum."

"All right then." The man stepped aside to let them pass and Ginna stood back to let her mercenary friend unlock the door.

"Stop telling people I'm your wife, or I will cut you."

"I was just keeping up the deception," he explained, stepping away and pushing the doors open.

"Speaking of deception, you do realize," she began stepping through the doors and just out of earshot of the guard, "that I have to get into his laboratory, right?"

"But… he said not to."

"Which is exactly why I have to. Whatever it is I need to take back to Enthir so he can translate Gallus's journal is in that laboratory."

"You're going to get me killed," he groaned, "or even worse, arrested."

"You've got your priorities all messed up, don't you?"

"Because I don't want to go to prison? You know what they'd do to a guy like me in a place like Cidhna Mine?" She watched a shiver roll through him, his eyes widening in horror. "I'm a good looking man, maybe a little too good looking, but I have no intention of becoming some serial murderer's love toy."

"You have serious problems, Marcurio," she shook her head. "Serious problems. Now cut it out and try to act natural. Though I'm relatively sure at this point you don't know how to do that, I at least need you to try."

"This is me, acting natural."

And he strutted into the museum like he had all the business in the world being there. Ginna walked two steps behind him and wished there was a way to completely disassociate herself from him and act like they didn't know each other at all.

In hindsight, it was something she was sure she would laugh about later… years later, if they actually managed to pull it off without going to prison or getting killed, but she would have much rather had Rune there at her side, or even better, Brynjolf. Then she remembered she was doing it for them, for the Guild, and she had to make do with the resources at her disposal.

Like it or not, Marcurio was currently her only asset and she'd paid him well to do the job at hand.


	32. Chapter 32

For almost an hour, Marcurio and Ginna meandered around the Dwemer museum. While he inspected the artifacts in the cases and marveled at the recovered Dwarven Spiders and Centurions, Ginna searched the place for a map of the structure. She found one in a locked office, and studied the layout to determine the best way to get into Calcelmo's laboratory. There was a direct exit just off to the right, but as she snuck off to test the door, she discovered it was barred from the other side and glanced down at the map once more to determine the route they'd need to take to come out onto the balcony.

"I think I figured out where we need to go," she slipped up beside him, startling him from his reverie with her silence.

"Don't sneak up on me like that. I'm already paranoid."

"You'll be fine. Just stay behind me and follow my lead."

"You know, if the Dwemer had focused more of their energy on magic and less on technology, they'd probably still be alive today." He crossed his arms matter-of-factly, brow edging slightly upward as if he were quite proud of his astute observation.

"Probably," she shrugged. "Let's get going."

She watched his shoulders slump as he lowered the arms he'd just crossed. "Do we really have to do this?"

"Yes, it's the only way."

He sighed and lowered his head like a child. "All right, but if I get killed… or arrested, I'm not talking to you ever again. I mean it!"

"You would be… never mind. Come on."

Sneaking past the guards in the museum was easy enough. She just waited for their rotation to shift and slipped out the exit that led deeper into the building. They immediately found themselves in a secondary room, an unfinished wing of the museum itself, filled with old Dwemer traps that Ginna was surprised to find were actually set up for use. Arrow traps, blade traps… The kind of traps that if they found themselves in a bind, would take out everyone in the room and leave them in the clear.

"You see that valve," she gestured toward the red wheel on the wall. "One turn and it would kill everyone in this room."

"We're not supposed to be in here," he mumbled, "much less killing everyone."

"Quit acting like a baby."

Marcurio was surprisingly good at sneaking, keeping to the shadows, following her lead. He even stopped mumbling that they weren't supposed to be there whenever she talked to him and just kept his head down and his eyes on the guards. They came to an impasse with shadowed alcoves on both sides, that had she been by herself, Ginna would have easily ducked through without the guards ever even knowing she was there, but Marcurio tripped over a random Dwemer cog someone had left on the floor, alerting the guards to their presence.

Ginna didn't hesitate, charging in with both blades drawn to battle back the first guard that came at her. Marcurio raised his hand without thought, summoning a lightning spell that sent one of the guards flying backward through the hall just as she was getting ready to join in the fight.

"Damn it!" Marcurio cursed, drawing out his dagger. "This is bad."

"Look out! On your left!" Ginna called to him, spinning in double bladed to scissor the head from a guard's shoulders. It thunked to the floor with a wet, heavy splat, his body following.

"Killing without reason is bad," he told her when they reached the end of the hallway and glanced back at the four bodies they'd left behind them. "You are not a good friend, Ginna. Making me kill innocent people."

"Innocent people, eh?" She sheathed her bloodied blade and lifted her gaze to his, watching him catch his breath. "Kill or be killed, Marcurio. They attacked first."

"Don't you think I know that?" He was really angry, his brow furrowed, eyes blazing with a dark fire that in the dim light of the hall actually made him appear dangerously attractive. There was a part of her that knew in her heart that had she never met Brynjolf, she'd be throwing herself at the man in front of her without hesitation right then because the flare of battle magic had actually turned her on. And then he started talking again, pushing that minor inkling so deep into her gut she could barely feel it anymore and she was glad. "But we wouldn't have to kill or be killed if we weren't in places we are not supposed to be."

"If it will alleviate your troubled conscience, I relieve you from my service."

"Oh," a sarcastic laugh rose from his puffed up chest. "We've gone too far for that now! Besides, I highly doubt you'd make it through this… this… whatever this is we're doing without me. Now let's move, before someone finds us here with all these dead bodies."

She took a minute to stretch her aching shoulder and consult her map again, and then took the leftward passage and darted up the stairs. They wound through another open room, slipping in and out of every cubby and crevice in search of something, anything that might help Enthir translate Gallus's journals. When they snuck into a balcony overlooking what appeared to be a research center, Ginna held up her hand to tell him to wait where he was and crept across the platform to study the controls. Traps, both technological and magical, and all of them connected to a single valve.

Drawing in a deep breath, the sound of voices coming from the room below prompted her to move fast, and spinning that valve, she set off every trap, massacring everyone in that room in a blaze of spinning blades, poison gas and flame.

"Good gods!" Marcurio exclaimed, running in behind her and shoving her aside to close the valve. "Was that really necessary? What is wrong with you? I'm starting to think you're not a thief at all and that the reason so many people want you dead is because you're with the Dark Brotherhood."

"I'm not an assassin," she assured him, walking past him and stepping down the stairs to survey the damage she'd done. "It was a necessary maneuver." There was a twinge of guilt, cold and raw inside her, even though she knew the people she'd just murdered would have done the same to her if their roles had been reversed and they'd come in to catch her in that room.

"We're surely going to prison now," he pinched his lips together, and hovered behind her on the top step.

"Only if we get caught," she pointed out, reaching her hand into the pocket of her pants for a moment. She curled her fingers around the emeralds there, and closed her eyes to try and feel their energy. It wasn't the same, but she did feel something then. Lucky. Unclenching her fingers, she let them fall back into the depth of her pocket, content with the knowledge that even if Brynjolf wasn't there with her, he'd lent a bit of his luck from miles away and that luck would see her through. "And we're not getting caught. I promise you."

"Sorry if your reassurance does little to alleviate my fears," he rolled his eyes and hiked down the steps behind her.

She searched that room and found nothing but a rare Dwemer puzzle cube that made her immediately think of Delvin. As she was reaching for it, she heard Marcurio tsk at her back. "And now I suppose you're going to steal everything of value in this place while we're at it."

"So what if I am?" she asked, lowering the cube into her pouch before turning back to face him. "I'm a thief, Marcurio. I steal things. Remember?"

"Yes, yes. Doing your part to uphold the social and economic structure of Tamriel, just like the rest of us. Forgive me."

"That's right. You don't have to like it. You don't even have to go any further. I already told you I would release you from my service if you weren't comfortable moving forward with this."

"And I already told you I don't think you'd last ten minutes without me, so…"

The sad part was, he was probably right.

Ginna secured her pouch and headed for the door that led out onto the balcony. As soon as they stepped outside, the overwhelming smell of sulfur mingled with smoke from the smelters in the city below. The sun had gone down while they were inside Understone Keep, Masser's heavy, swollen body crimson against the backdrop of ancient Markarth. Blood and silver, she remembered those words from the man they'd spoken to in the streets earlier. They seemed appropriate now that she'd left a trail of it in her wake.

She turned right and moved fast up the stairs that led to Calcelmo's laboratory and without a word, Marcurio followed.

There were no guards inside. Considering how highly Calcelmo valued his research, this surprised her. Glancing up as they walked the empty hallway, she saw a heavy stone tablet marked in etchings that looked similar to the scrawl in Gallus's journal.

"Up there," she gestured with her hand. "That's where I need to be."

Marcurio said nothing, only continued beside her as she located the entrance that led into the wizard's private study. While he closed and secured the door behind them, she began searching the room for the book Calcelmo was writing, but there was nothing. Only vague notes. Opening the door that led out onto the balcony where the stone tablet waited, she stole a roll of parchment and a block of charcoal and knelt down on the floor in front of it to make a rubbing.

"This will have to do," she muttered, more to herself than her companion as she lifted the parchment away to study the translation guide. "I hope it's enough for Enthir."

"It gods damned better be enough," he mumbled. "I don't think they'll allow either of us back into Markarth if we manage to get out of here alive."

"We're leaving now," she announced, rising as she rolled the parchment to lower it into her satchel.

"Good."

He followed her out of the laboratory and through the doors, but just as they were headed down the walkway, she heard voices up ahead. "…need to make sure the infiltrator hasn't gotten to my uncle's research. That research is everything to him."

Ginna nudged Marcurio into the bushes and the two of them ducked down into the shadows, holding their breath as the guard passed by. "They've got to be here somewhere," she heard one of the guards say. "We will find them, sir."

"Kill them on sight."

She thought she heard Marcurio squeak as he leaned into her from behind, his shoulder brushing against his, the heat of his breath rustling through the hair on the back of her neck and sending shivers rippling through her. Shaking them off, she rammed her elbow into his chest to push him back. Leaning out after the guard was gone, she watched them disappear into the laboratory and then turned over her shoulder to face him. "There's a waterfall down there. We can drop into the pool below. No one will ever even know we were up here."

"Whatever," he sighed. "At this point, I just want to get out of this place."

"Then let's go."

She dropped down first, splashing into the water and then swimming toward the edge to give him room. They waited for a moment after he joined her, watching from behind the waterfall as the guards passed on their rounds before climbing out and standing on the walkway dripping wet.

"And now I'm soaked," he complained.

"But you're alive."

"Probably not for long if I keep hanging around with you."

She ignored that last statement and kept to the shadows, following them all the way down the stairs and out the front gates to the stables, where they retrieved their horses and rode out of Markarth as if dragonfire drove them.


	33. Chapter 33

"I think I'm going to up my rates," Marcurio announced when they finally stopped to take shelter for the night. It was the same cave where she and Brynjolf had cooked up their Falmer Blood Elixir scheme, and though Ginna would never say as much out loud, a part of her actually felt comfortable there. Maybe she wasn't as spoiled as Brynjolf liked to say she was. Marcurio, on the other hand, was uncomfortable, his clothes still damp and the smell inside the cave was so overwhelming he'd threatened to throw up several times. "Or at least modify the fine print on my terms of service."

Ginna knelt in front of the fire he'd started, warming her hands and shivering inside her wet leather Guild armor. She chuckled a little and watched him unsling his pack before lowering to sit across the fire from her. "I'm sorry taking on this job conflicted with your high moral standards."

"Well, if I had known when you came up to me at the Frozen Hearth you were planning to drag me on a Skyrim-wide murder spree…" he started, and then dug into his pack for a bottle of brandy. "Oh, who am I kidding. I still probably would have come along. I always was a sucker for a pretty girl in trouble."

She ignored his flirtation, denying the curious intrigue she'd felt at the Dwemer museum when the tingling of desire rose in her belly after watching him work his magic. Despite how much of a turn off his incessant bragging was, he was actually pretty powerful and there was definitely something sexy about power. She rifled through her own satchel until she found a bit of jerked horker meat to sate her hunger and a bottle of mead to take the edge off the cold she could feel seeping into her bones that made her shoulder throb and ache.

"You really seemed to know a lot about the Dwemer when we were talking to Calcelmo." She shifted the conversation. "Where did you learn so much about the ruins of Mzinchaleft?"

"You spend enough time in the Bee & Barb, you learn a lot about things you'll probably never see." He shrugged. "Mjoll talks about the place constantly, her lost blade, the giant Dwemer construct that nearly killed her, Aerin saving her life after she crawled away."

Ginna had only crossed paths with Riften's great champion, Mjoll the Lioness, once but that was enough to turn her stomach. Righteous do-gooder Void-bent on saving Riften from the Thieves Guild. Brynjolf loathed her and Rune told her that Vex had been trying to frame that meddlesome bitch for years, but the charges never seemed to stick.

"If you came to Skyrim to go to the College of Winterhold, how did you wind up in Riften?"

"A few years back I was companion to a thane of Riften, an Altmer battlemage named Anariel. We traveled everywhere together. Fighting the good fight, bringing honor to ourselves and all that good stuff." He drew his legs up and rested his arms across the top of his knees. "We were in Morthal when she died in battle, clearing out a vampire coven for Jarl Idgrod Ravencrone…"

Lowering his head to rest on his arms, he was quiet for a few minutes, thoughtful and sad as he remembered. Ginna watched the length of his hair slip over his shoulder to slide down his arm. The flames leapt and danced in his eyes, making them look like pools of molten honey. He seemed so vulnerable right then, and in the past she might have taken advantage of that vulnerability without a thought, but it actually made her feel sad.

"I was beside myself after she died," he went on. "Didn't know what else to do so I traveled back to Riften with her remains. A part of me just wanted to leave this gods forsaken frozen wasteland, go back to Cyrodiil and forget, but even after she was laid to rest I couldn't bring myself to leave. It was as though I just sat down on that bench in the Bee & Barb to wait for her, even though I knew she was never coming back. I've been there ever since."

"You loved her?"

Something inside Ginna had shifted, the hardness that had been her buffer for so long softening when she met Brynjolf, and though try as she might to fight it, she saw love enmeshed with tragedy everywhere she looked. Would theirs become another of those fleeting, tragic love songs barely memorable enough for bards to sing?

"Not half as well as she loved me," he sighed, slugging back long gulps from the bottle of brandy he held. "And I've regretted it ever since. I was really young and stupid. I took advantage of her feelings for me because I thought she'd always be there."

"That's rough."

She couldn't even begin to relate because she'd never had someone love her that way, had never loved anyone else. Not until she'd met Brynjolf. The men in her life had been affectionate to a point, even Mallus had his moments, but none of them really loved her beyond the physical. None of them had laid beside her in the dark talking her to sleep, soft fingertips brushing the hair across her cheek, leaning in to kiss her forehead as her dreams carried her away. None of them had ever wanted to be her partner…

Gods, she longed for his warmth then, a shiver moving through her.

"What about you? How did you wind up in Riften? With Brynjolf of all people?"

"It's a long story." One she felt she'd already told too many people.

"Come on, I told you my story, and besides we've got nothing but time until the sun comes up," he pointed out.

"Let's just say I came in on a debt and found myself never wanting to leave and keep it at that."

"Maven Black-Briar has that kind of effect on people. If you prove yourself valuable to her and you owe her a debt, she finds a way to make sure she owns you for life."

"My debt to Maven is paid. I could leave Riften anytime I want. I just… I don't want to. My heart is there now." It felt so strange saying those words out loud, admitting to someone else that she was in love. The Ginna she'd been just a few months ago would have never yielded her heart so quickly to a man, and yet just thinking about him made her ache inside.

For a time they were quiet, and then he looked across the fire at her as if he'd been reading her emotions. "What can you possibly see in that guy, Ginna? He's a rogue and a scoundrel, always running some scam, stealing from anyone and everyone he can."

"Mm," she mused softly, remembering how quickly he'd slipped into another persona when they'd been in Markarth together, scamming the people with their mystical Falmer Blood Elixir. "That's why I like him. I see myself in him." She leveled her gaze at him, watched the fire leap and dance in his golden eyes before he squinted, trying to make sense of her words. "I see my future."

"You deserve a better future than what he can give. What could he have to offer you? Prison? A cold blade in a dark alleyway?"

"You seem to keep forgetting, I was already a thief when I met him."

"Perhaps, but I still say you deserve better."

"You've spent four days with me and you're already an expert on what kind of life I deserve? You watched me slaughter those people back there in cold blood, Marcurio and you could barely stomach it. I can't even count the number of people I've had to kill in my lifetime."

"You obviously had your reasons. You said yourself there was no other way. Kill or be killed."

"There's always another way. I just choose to do things my way."

"All right," he said. "But whatever we were doing there, this is about more than some petty thievery for your Guild. What is this whole thing with the journal all about? Why's it so important? Who's Gallus?"

"You shouldn't worry about those things. The less you know, the better off you'll be."

"Well, I'm an official accessory to mass murder, Ginna. I don't think it gets any better off than that. Come on, I think I have a right to know what we were doing back there. I risked my life and acted against my better judgment to help you."

"It's only official if the murderers get caught," she tried to draw him off the subject with humor, but he wasn't going to budge. She could see it in his eyes, those serious, mesmerizing eyes that had she not grown a heart and a conscience would have easily drawn her in against her own better judgment.

"Come on," he said again. "Just give me something, so I don't spend the rest of my life guilty and wondering how well you conned me into believing you were actually in trouble."

"All right…" she sighed. "A long time ago the Guild was torn apart when the Guildmaster was stabbed in the back and left for dead in an old Nordic ruin. There were only two people who knew what really happened that day and the wrong one made it back to the Guild. He framed his partner for the crime and she spent decades in exile, hiding in the shadows." Would that become her life in twenty years? Always on the run from Brutus and the people he'd turned against her with his lies? She was more like Karliah than she'd ever realized; maybe that was why she'd trusted her without question. "Whatever is written in that journal… It will bring that betrayal into the light and it won't be pretty, but I'm hoping it will protect the people I love from suffering anymore than they already have." She took another drink, closing her eyes and letting the warmth of that mead rush through her, into her warm cheeks, through her blood until that heat took the edge off of the cold. "I got caught up in it all. I didn't really even mean to, and now that same backstabbing bastard ran his blade through me and left me for dead in the ruins where he killed his own Guildmaster."

"Wait, so, someone really did stab you? As in, an actual stabbing?"

Ginna lifted a hand to the healed wound beneath her armor to show him where with a soft pat of her fingers. "Right here."

"Damn," he muttered, shaking his head. "Now see, is it really worth it, Ginna? To me that seems like some kind of divine intervention, a message from the gods that you're in the wrong business."

Ginna laughed. "You're a funny guy," she told him. "Has anyone ever told you that?"

"I'm not being funny, I'm being serious." But he was smiling.

"I think that's what makes it so funny. It's like you just don't get it." She took a drink and lowered the bottle to rest at her side. "I mean, think about it, Marcurio. You have your magic, right?"

"Well, yes, but I don't really see what that has to do with…"

"How long have you known you wanted to be a mage?"

"I don't know, since I was a boy and I realized the only way someone my size could make an impact was if I took advantage of my affinity for the arcane arts. I used to get bullied a lot, but I don't see what that has to do…"

"That's my point exactly. I had nothing as a girl. My father made sure of it when he gambled and pissed away every septim he earned. I had to take care of myself because he wasn't going to do it. And then I realized one day I didn't have to do without. That there were things in other people's pockets, things I wanted, things that would make my life easier and all I had to do to make them mine was reach in and grab them."

"That doesn't make it right."

"It makes it right for me."

"But it's so dangerous… Surely you have other talents. The way you wield blades is remarkable, Ginna, your strategic thought process… You could be a hero, not a rogue."

"And being a hero isn't dangerous?" She didn't give him a chance to answer. "Look at Mjoll. The ruins of Mzinchaleft destroyed her. And what about Anariel?" Watching the light drain from his eyes made her feel cruel, and the guilt that followed was something unfamiliar and cold. It made her feel bad, but she had to drive that point home. "Life is dangerous, Marcurio. No matter what stars we choose to align ourselves with, eventually we all get to die."

"Well, when you put it that way, I guess I can't argue," he admitted, and then, "well, I could argue, but I see no sense in it. You're obviously very happy with this lifestyle of yours. Who am I to tell you that you shouldn't live it?" He was thoughtful and quiet again for a time, but the place his mind wandered was soon revealed. "Though I do still say you deserve someone better than Brynjolf. Someone who's actually willing to get out there and stand beside you. Someone who isn't afraid to say… oh, I don't know, join in the fight when you're in a bind."

"You mean someone more like you?"

She watched the playful light return to his eyes, the long edges lengthening, brow quirking upward with his suggestive grin. "Now you're talking. I'd take good care of you. I'd even look the other way while you did… well, whatever it is you feel you need to do with your life. _I'd_ stand beside you in battle, not send you out to fight alone. And I've been told my skills as a lover are unmatched."

What _would_ his hands feel like on her skin? Those long, beautiful fingers trailing across her bare belly, palms warm as he kneaded her breasts, lips whispering against hers. Would she feel the magic he possessed tingling through her body as he rose up inside her? And he had really nice lips, softer than most of the Imperials she'd spent her days with. She wondered what they would feel like against hers, both of them gasping with desire as they writhed and stretched and tangled their bodies together right there in the same place Brynjolf had taken her up against the cold stone walls.

Just thinking about Brynjolf was like a shock to her system. In the past, she'd have had no qualms sating her lust with someone else. She couldn't even count on both hands the number of men she'd slept with while she'd been with Mallus, and yet just the thought of taking another into her arms felt like a betrayal of the heart. Even if he was sitting in Riften cursing her name, she didn't want to ruin what they had together by drawing another man between her thighs for some meaningless pleasure. Gods, how quickly being in love changed a person.

Shaking those thoughts from her mind before they could go any further, Ginna laughed again as she stood up. "You and me are never gonna happen, Marcurio."

"Oh, come on," he urged, taking another drink. "Don't tell me you're not the least bit curious about what I have to offer."

"Not curious at all," she lied.

"It was worth a shot," he shrugged. "And it's your loss."


	34. Chapter 34

Over the next few days Marcurio tried to take that shot with her again at least three times on the long road to Winterhold. He kept reevaluating his argument, trying to find ways to prove to her that Brynjolf was no good. If he was any kind of man, why wasn't he with her? If he cared about her at all, he would be with her, not sending her off on her own to do such dangerous work alone. But the more he argued against Brynjolf, the more it made her long for her lover.

She didn't bother trying to explain the concept of Guild loyalty to him, or the fact that Brynjolf probably didn't even know she was still alive. Brynjolf's Guild was his life; it came first, and as sad as it made her that he hadn't come with her and Mercer, she understood. The Riften Guild was falling apart, and it seemed its Guildmaster was doing little to hold it together, so it fell to Brynjolf. She would have made the same choice for her Guild, had their roles been reversed… if she still actually had a Guild to call her own.

That was what made them perfect for each other. Or at least it_ had_ made them perfect for each other before Mercer betrayed her and sold her out.

At night while she sat across the fire from Marcurio, ignoring his long-winded posturing, she held those emeralds her love had given her in the palm of her hand and tried to imagine how things would be when she finally saw Brynjolf again. Would he hate and distrust her, loathe her as he did Karliah? When she looked into his eyes, would all their warmth be gone, leaving behind nothing but the hard sting of a false betrayal he could never forgive?

It made her want to cry, but she didn't. She couldn't, especially not in front of Marcurio. A part of her wasn't even sure she knew how to cry over matters of the heart; she'd never done it before. And besides, she had a feeling Marcurio, as noble as he pretended to be, would try to take advantage of that little slip of weakness. She'd feel bad if she had to kill him while he slept, after everything he'd done to help her against his better judgment.

Intriguing as it was to imagine what it might be like to slip into his arms, as a man he was far too needy. Maybe losing someone who'd loved him well made him overcompensating, too desperate for another opportunity to do it over the right way. She didn't know, but it made Ginna feel sorry for him. He wasn't really a bad guy, just misunderstood, and his ego provided very little in the way of understanding until you got to know him a little better. Something or someone had made him really insecure during the course of his life and it made her sad.

She would say one thing on his behalf. He _was_ loyal to a fault that would probably get him killed one day. She only hoped it wasn't while he was fighting beside her. He deserved better than that.

It was late when they finally arrived in Winterhold, the innkeeper directing them down the stairs behind the counter. They found Karliah and Enthir talking quietly at a table in the cellar. Karliah glanced up, eying Marcurio suspiciously before turning her gaze to Ginna as Enthir rose from his seat.

"Ginna," she followed suit, standing up beside the table. Her lavender eyes lit up with hope and Ginna prayed inwardly to whatever God or Daedric Prince might be listening that her efforts would not disappoint her new friend.

"You're back, eh?" Enthir started toward her. "And how was our friend Calcelmo?"

"He's… interesting, to say the least." She unslung her pack from her shoulder and opened it to search for the rubbings. "It's probably a good thing he didn't really get a good look at me while we were talking because I have a feeling he won't soon forget our visit to his museum and it's probably best that he won't recognize my face if we ever meet again."

"Oh dear. That sounds promising," Enthir chuckled. "What have you got for me?"

"Here," she handed the rubbings over to him. "This should help with the translating of Gallus's journal."

"I suppose it would be inappropriate of me to ask how you obtained this, so I won't."

"It's quite an interesting story, actually, but perhaps best told another time when there are less pressing matters at hand."

"A rubbing, eh?" he mused. "I expected notes, but this will do."

"No notes. He wasn't exactly forthcoming with the information, so I had to make do."

"Clever girl," Enthir commended her. "Now, let me have a look at this." He carried the rubbings over to the table and opened Gallus's journal to get to work. "If you'll both follow me."

"I'm glad you made it back," Karliah said as they started to walk back to the table with Enthir. "I was beginning to worry."

"The road to Markarth and back is long," she said. "But I traveled as quickly as I could. I just want to get back to Riften before it's too late to save face and clear your name."

"Aye," she agreed, turning her gaze toward Marcurio, who had positioned himself near the door to wait. "And who is your friend?"

"Just a mercenary," she explained. He must have overheard her because when she glanced toward him, she saw his face lengthen with a hint of sadness. The last week they'd spent together made him more than just a mercenary, she supposed. "And a friend," she added, watching his smile return as he glanced over at her. "Don't worry, he's been paid handsomely to keep his teeth together, and he's proven himself loyal. He killed for me. He won't betray me."

"Good," Karliah nodded. "I trust your judgment."

"Hmm…" Enthir's thoughtful expression drew both of their gazes away from Marcurio and across the table. "This is intriguing and yet, highly disturbing."

"What is it?" Karliah asked, her attention snapping toward Enthir.

"It appears that Gallus had suspicions about Mercer Frey's allegiance to the Guild for quite some time in the months leading up to his murder. Gallus had begun to uncover what he calls 'an unduly lavish lifestyle replete with spending vast amounts of gold on personal pleasures.'"

"Does the journal say where this wealth came from?"

"Yes," Enthir nodded, flipping to the next page. "Gallus seemed certain that Mercer had been removing funds from the Guild's treasury without anyone's knowledge."

"Anything else, Enthir?" she leaned across the table. "Anything about… the Nightingales?" Her voice had become almost so soft, Ginna barely heard her.

"Ahh… yes, here it is." He flipped through the final pages and then lifted his gaze first to Ginna and then Karliah. "The last few pages seem to describe the failure of the Nightingales, although it doesn't go into great detail. Gallus also repeatedly mentions his strong belief that Mercer desecrated something known as the Twilight Sepulcher."

"Shadows preserve us," Karliah gasped in horror. "So it's true then…"

"What's true?" Ginna turned to her.

"I'm not familiar with the Twilight Sepulcher. What is it, Karliah?" Enthir lowered the journal to the table. "What has Mercer Frey done?"

"I'm sorry, Enthir." She lowered her hooded head to look away. "I can't say. All that matters is that we deliver your translation to the Guild immediately."

"I understand."

"Farewell, Enthir." She reached across the table and rested a hand atop his, her long fingers caressing as she curled them around his. "Words cannot even begin to express…"

"It's all right, Karliah. You don't have to say a word." He turned to Ginna, lifting the translated journal out to her. "Listen, all I want is for the truth to be revealed to the Guild. They respected Karliah and she deserves better."

"The truth will be revealed, Enthir. I promise you."

"Do whatever you can, and I'd consider it a personal favor."

"Thank you for everything."

"We must hasten for Riften," Karliah told her after Enthir left them alone. "Before Mercer can do anymore damage to the Guild."

"Yes," Ginna agreed. "Gallus's journal mentioned the Twilight Sepulcher. What is that, Karliah?"

"You've come this far," she lowered her gaze, lips pursing tight together for a moment. "So I see no harm in concealing it any longer. The Twilight Sepulcher is the temple to Nocturnal. It's what the Nightingales are sworn to protect with their lives."

Shaking her head, Ginna still didn't understand. "Why does it require that kind of protection?"

"Everything that represents Nocturnal's influence is contained within the walls of the Sepulcher. Now it seems Mercer's broken his oath with Nocturnal and defiled the very thing he swore to protect."

"Thieves and temples," Ginna shook her head. "It just doesn't add up. I mean, I understand Nocturnal's influence, but…"

"I felt the same way when Gallus first revealed these things to me. I think given time, you'll come to understand what I mean."

"I'd understand much better if there was less mystery involved."

"As a Nightingale, I've been sworn to secrecy regarding the Sepulcher," she said. "I know growing up in a Guild doesn't do much to foster faith, and after everything you've been through I understand your hesitation, but I'm going to have to ask that you continue to trust me."

"Very well. We'll continue to do it your way for now." Glancing over at Marcurio, who had cleverly turned his attention elsewhere, Ginna relented. "I don't know why, but I do trust you."

"Believe me, I know how hard that must be for you. I will not forget everything you've done for me, Ginna." Karliah's smile was soft, and still so sad. "I'll leave now, go ahead and make for Riften to scout the situation. See if I can discover what Mercer's up to. When you're ready, meet me at the Ragged Flagon."

"The road from Markarth was long and I'm still experiencing a bit of pain in my shoulder where Mercer stabbed me. I need to take a bit of rest, but I will leave in a few hours and meet you there. It's probably best if we don't travel together."

"I agree." Karliah drew a blade from her scabbard and held it to show her. "In the meantime, I wanted you to have this. It belonged to Gallus, but given the circumstances, I think he'd approve. He would have liked you, Ginna."

Ginna felt her throat tighten with emotion, which she swallowed before reaching out to carefully take the sword. She knew so little about Gallus, and yet her life had become intertwined so intimately with his, she felt as though he'd become a part of her. "I… I don't know what to say. I'll put it to good use."

Lowering her head, Karliah's voice was so soft Ginna almost didn't hear what she said. "If the Guild isn't willing to listen to reason, you might have to."

She swallowed hard again, lowering the blade into her scabbard and watching Karliah make for the door. Once she was gone, Marcurio approached, looking her over with curious eyes. "How much did you overhear?"

"Overhear? I didn't hear a thing," he smiled at her.

"Try as you might to deny it, this lifestyle suits you."

"I'm going to ignore that," he teased. "Where to now?"

"We make for home," she said, her shoulders dropping with a sigh. "But first I need to rest, though I have no idea how I'll ever sleep knowing what I face in Riften."

"Come on," he started toward the door that led upstairs. "I'll book you a room upstairs. My treat."

Ginna chuckled a bit following him up the stairs. "I'm not sleeping with you, Marcurio. No matter how many of my secrets you now keep."

"I said I'd book _you_ a room upstairs. Not us. I actually have some business up at the college I need to see to before heading back to Riften, but I'll be back in a few hours. You should wait for me, not go running off to meet your death alone."

"I will wait for you."

"Good."

As he was arrived on the landing that led into the inn, she touched his sleeve, fingers gripping it to hold him in place a moment longer. "Marcurio?"

"Hmm?" He turned over his shoulder to look back at her.

"I… I just wanted to say thanks."

"For what?"

"For being here for me. You could have walked away at any time, but you didn't, even when I relieved you of your duty."

"That's what friends are for."

"Friends?" she laughed a little. "I've gotta say, you're the most expensive friend I've ever had. In fact, I think you're the only friend I've ever actually paid for."

"The friendship is free," he said. "It's my formidable skill with magic you pay for. Now, go get some rest."

Ginna veered right, following the innkeeper into the empty room after Marcurio paid him, and closing the door at her back. She was exhausted, achy and sore, but even more than that, she was scared. As she laid down in the dark room, pulling the blankets up around her, her mind raced through every possible outcome that lay in store.

"Nocturnal," she whispered. "I've never needed luck and guidance more than I do now. I hope you've got my back."


	35. Chapter 35

Even on horseback, the journey to Riften took two days on account of the heavy blizzard that hammered Winterhold and followed them down through Eastmarch until they were well past Windhelm. A part of her thought she would feel relieved upon seeing the sunlight glinting off Lake Honrich after all that snow, the looming city atop the pier she'd begun to think of as home a welcome beacon in her darkness, but the dread in her gut made her feel like she'd swallowed a hundred iron ingots that were all rattling heavily around inside her.

On the road she'd been able to speculate, even avoid the cold, hard facts. She could pretend that Brynjolf was waiting for her in Honeyside, heart heavy with grief until she walked through the doors like a ghost come back from the grave. She knew instinctively nothing would be further from the truth. Mercer had sold her out to Brutus; he'd want to justify that crime with reason and what better reason than aligning her with Karliah's plot from the get-go?

Despite everything, Mercer wasn't an idiot. To get away with murder for twenty-five years, one had to be clever and she was relatively sure the story he'd told to the Guild about her was one she'd have a hard time undoing. Even with proof of his treachery to back her up.

Hofgrir was surprised to see her, the first confirmation of her untimely death come back to haunt her. He didn't say as much, but when she assured the horsemaster that her steed was legitimately purchased from the stables in Windhelm, he didn't question her. Just said, "Keep your gold, girl. I'll take good care of your horse."

"You're a good man, Hofgrir."

"Awe, shucks," he blushed.

Turning to Marcurio as they headed toward the gates, she tried to smile at him, but it wouldn't come. In a few hours' time, he might very well be the only friend she had left. It was a depressing thought. "Thanks again, for everything, but it's time for us to part ways."

"Are you sure?" he tilted his head to look at her, bright amber eyes squinting. "I may not know what you're up against, but I have a feeling it's going to be dangerous. You might need my help."

"I might, but I have to handle this on my own."

"All right," he agreed. "But if you need me, you know where I'll be, and since you recently overpaid my fee, our next adventure together is on the house."

"Thanks," she nodded. "I'll keep that in mind."

"And Ginna," he called as she turned right to head toward Honeyside. "Be careful."

Turning the key into the lock, she pushed open the doors and stepped into the biggest mess she'd ever seen. Tables overturned, drawers hanging open as if someone had been there looking for evidence… or losing their mind. The mattress had been pulled apart, the bedframe turned over, and as she glanced toward the stairs she realized she didn't even want to know what the lower floor looked like.

At least she knew how Brynjolf had reacted to whatever Mercer'd told him; with rage. Facing him would be the hardest thing she'd ever endured, she realized. She had no idea what to expect, but she knew in her heart theirs would not be a happy reunion and it broke her heart. She couldn't even begin to imagine how he must be feeling, how he would react to Mercer's betrayal once he learned the truth. Everything he'd ever known; a lie. And what if Mercer was there? Would his presence make it even harder for them to convince the Guild of his treachery, even with Gallus's journal to back up their claims?

There wasn't time to clean up. She knew she needed to get to the Flagon and find Karliah, but she just wanted a minute to herself to think. Traveling with Marcurio hadn't exactly provided her with much in the way of quiet time.

Ginna righted the table and pushed it up against the wall under the windows, rearranging the chairs around it before sitting down in one of them for a moment to collect her thoughts and find her courage. In the course of her life she'd never shied away from anything, but she was dreading what lay ahead. Cast out of two Guilds in two months. Surely that had to be some kind of record, she mused, pushing her back into the chair to stretch her shoulder and alleviate the constant ache.

She didn't know why, but for some reason she felt much more broken up about losing her Riften family than she had knowing she might never be able to face the people in Cyrodiil again. That family had fallen apart when Severus died, leaving behind a scant few who could have cared less who led them, as long as the jobs kept rolling in. And it wasn't just losing Brynjolf that broke her heart. Never sharing stories with Rune and Delvin again, never actually getting to trade secrets with Vipir. Thrynn and Ninruin would never tell her they respected what she was doing again. She would even miss the scathing tone with which Vex always told her not to muck things up.

How had she grown so attached to them already? Why was the thought of losing them all so difficult to bear?

She only gave herself thirty minutes to dwell on those sorrows, and then she picked up her pride and left the house. She walked slowly through Riften, watching the people weave in and out of the streets, heading over to the market. Mjoll and Aerin stood near the entrance to the Bee & Barb, Mjoll smiling at her and calling out, "Welcome back, friend."

Maven spied her as she was crossing the bridge and walking down the steps, holding up a hand to stop her. Ginna waited for the woman to approach, her sharp blue eyes squinting with curiosity as she did. "You're… alive," she noted. "Brynjolf said you…"

"It's a long story, Lady Black-Briar, and one I'm sure you'll be interested to hear."

"Indeed, I will. There was talk of betrayal."

"Such talk should be ignored." She was proud of the conviction in her voice. If only she could keep that strength when she faced Brynjolf. The funny thing was Maven was far more intimidating. "Though I would be wary of Mercer Frey, if I were you. Much of your own troubles as of late have been the direct result of his treachery."

"Color me intrigued." Her eyebrow shot up and she crossed her arms. "But here is not the place to discuss such things. Come with me."

"Lady, I…"

"You are not preparing to argue with me, are you?"

"Of course not," she lowered her eyes to the cracks in the pier beneath her feet. "I was just going to say I would be honored to come with you."

Maven led her to Black-Briar Manor, inviting her inside and showing her to the dining room after shooing her daughter Ingun out of the house. "Go on, go find something useful to do for a change," she hissed, gesturing for Ginna to take a seat at the table.

Ingun fretted under her mother's insult, but she did as she was told without question, leaving the two of them alone in the manor. While Maven poured them both teeming mugs of Black-Briar mead, Ginna took a moment to look around the house. Decorated in lavish, spun-silk embroidered banners, Black-Briar Manor made Honeyside look like a slum. Even the silver flatware on the table was genuine, the set itself probably worth more than the very house Maven had rented to her.

"Now," she lowered casually into the chair at the head of the table like a true matriarch. "Tell me everything."

There were benefits to running into Maven before meeting with the Guild. Though Maven had no idea what the Nightingales were, she didn't seem to care about them as long as they didn't interfere with her business. Leafing through Gallus's old journal was enough to convince her of Mercer's plot. Closing the book and returning it to Ginna so she could take it to Brynjolf, she leaned back in her chair and steepled her fingers together, elbows lowering to the tabletop.

"This is an interesting turn of events," she decided. "It was my influence in his corner that put him in that position of power after Gallus's death, but it never once occurred to me that he'd been the one to kill him. Things ran smoothly when Gallus was in control, and Mercer assured me that would not change. One can only wonder what else that loathsome little skeever was keeping from me."

"It's difficult to say, Lady." Ginna gulped down several swallows of her mead, glad for the courage it was giving her as it worked through her blood.

"Well, regardless, something needs to be done."

"Yes," she agreed. "I was on my way to meet Karliah so we could present this information to the Guild when I ran into you."

"I'd heard rumors she's been lingering in the shadows of that wretched little tavern down there. You should get this information to Brynjolf right away, but in the future I'd ask you to come directly to me with such matters. Without my influence, your little operation would have fallen apart ages ago. I have every right to know the goings on down there."

"I agree, Lady Black-Briar."

"I want to be informed as soon as Mercer's been dealt with. Am I clear?"

"Absolutely."

"Good, now, don't you have some business to take care of?"

Pushing her chair away from the table, Ginna rose and bowed her head to Maven. "I will be sure to keep you informed on the Mercer situation."

"Oh, and Ginna," she called out when she was reaching for the door. She turned to find Maven leaning against the doorframe with her arms crossed. "If you tell anyone I said this to you, I'll deny it, but I'm glad you're back. Things have been running so much more smoothly since you've become a part of that ragged little operation. I see good things for you if you keep this up."

"I won't let you down," she assured her, pushing through the doors and into the early afternoon daylight.


	36. Chapter 36

Ginna made an immediate left turn out of Black-Briar manor and cut through the temple yard into the cemetery behind the Hall of the Dead. Much to her dismay, the secret entrance into the Guild had been locked up tight, so she headed back out to quickly pad down the stairs and then ducked into the Ratway. The tunnels were unnervingly quiet, as if the multitudes of vagabonds and beggars had simply disappeared.

Crossing the bridge that led to the Flagon, she hiked down the stairs and opened the door, immediately spotting Karliah in the shadows at the edge of the pool.

She rushed up to meet her, grabbing her arm and confiding, "I'm so glad you're finally here. I think some of these people are beginning to suspect who I am."

"They know who you are. I spoke with Maven Black-Briar just a few moments ago and she'd mentioned having heard you were down here. No one's spoken to you?"

"No. They just keep watching me from the shadows."

"Any sign of Mercer?"

"None."

Ginna ignored the raging tumult in her stomach. "Brynjolf?"

"He disappeared into the Cistern a little while ago and I haven't seen him since."

"He was in my house," Ginna said. "I don't know when, days ago, maybe weeks. He left everything in shambles." She glanced up and saw Delvin rise from his chair, and then he went back into the Cistern. Had he seen her? Had he gone to tell Brynjolf she lived? Were they planning an ambush? "I don't know how I'm going to face him."

"He always did have a temper, even as a little boy, but we can get through to him. We have to." Drawing in a deep breath, Karliah's gaze passed across the water. "Are you ready?"

Ginna held her breath for a moment, and then she nodded. "I'm ready."

"Keep your eyes open." She turned toward the walkway. "I don't know what to expect when we enter the Cistern."

Side by side, they walked through the Ragged Flagon. Dirge muttered something incomprehensible as they passed, which Ginna figured probably had something to do with bashing in her skull. Tonilia's dark eyes squinted with distrust and Vekel leaned on his broom leering at them. Every step toward the secret door into the Cistern made the nervousness Ginna felt tangle and twist in her gut until she thought she would double over in agony, or worse, throw up.

Karliah went first, Ginna following, and they were immediately met by Brynjolf, Vex and Delvin in the alcove. Brynjolf's hackles were up, his blades drawn, eyes blazing with madness unlike any she'd seen in him. Vex and Delvin had their daggers out, ready to attack on command if need be.

"I'd heard you were dead, traitor." Those words stung, like a thousand angry bees sinking their stingers into her heart, but Ginna couldn't let him see that. Not when there was so much more going on around them that needed resolved before matters of the heart.

"You can't kill a ghost," she said softly, her eyes never leaving his.

She watched him swallow, drawing back his shoulders and cracking his neck to the left. "You'd better have a damn good reason to be here with that murderer."

"Please." Karliah held her hand up to stay their violent tempers and draw everyone to the matter at hand. "Lower your weapons so we can speak."

"So you can stab the rest of us in the back the way you did to Gallus and Mercer? To my mother and father?" Brynjolf challenged. "I don't bloody think so, Karliah."

"Please, Brynjolf," Ginna stepped forward, but he didn't move. "Hear her out. Things are not the way you think they are."

"We have proof," Karliah intervened. "Proof that you've all been misled. If you lower your weapons, I will share it with you."

Brynjolf looked between the two of them for a moment, wide eyes still alight with rage and distrust. They were bloodshot, rimmed in red and so tired, she wondered when last he'd gotten a good night's sleep; how much mead he'd had to drink over the last two weeks. "No tricks, Karliah," he sheathed his weapons. "Or I'll cut you both down where you stand." Delvin and Vex resheathed their blades as well, but none of them relaxed.

"No tricks," she promised.

"Now, what's this so-called proof you speak of?" He positioned his hands on his hips and studied both of them, narrowed eyes filled with loathing. She'd seen him that angry the night she'd told Mercer it was Karliah behind Goldenglow and Honningbrew, fueled by unspoken rage and hate, but she'd quelled and contained it when he pulled her into his arms and made her swear she'd come back to him. Now that his rage was directed toward her, she didn't know how it could ever be assuaged. What kinds of awful things had Mercer told him?

"I have Gallus's journal." She walked toward him, holding out the book Enthir had translated. "I think you'll find its contents disturbing."

"Let me see." He reached for it, jerking it from her hand and flipping it open as he looked between Ginna and Karliah before lowering his eyes to the pages. He was quiet for a few moments, turning the page, his face softening, hardening again, mouth pursing tight as he muttered, "No," and shook his head. "No. It can't be. This… this can't be true. I… I've known Mercer my whole life. He would never…"

"It's true, Brynjolf," Karliah assured him. "Every word. Mercer's been stealing from the Guild for years. Right under your very noses."

He closed the book and lowered it at his side, his eyes never leaving their faces. "There's only one way to find out if what the lasses say is true," he determined. "Delvin, I need you to open the Vault."

"The Vault?" Vex snapped her head toward Brynjolf.

"Wait just a blessed minute, Bryn." Delvin drew his blade again, Vex following suit. "What's in that book? What'd it say?"

"It says Mercer's been stealing from the Guild for years. Gallus was looking into it before he was murdered."

"I call bullshit," Vex said. "I don't know what those two are up to, but I get the feeling they'll say anything right about now to keep my dagger away from their throats."

Delvin's brow furrowed all the way back to the widow's peak of peach-fuzz that covered his bald head. "How can Mercer open a vault that needs two keys? It's impossible. Could he pick his way in?"

"That door has the best puzzle locks money can buy," Vex reminded him. "There's no way it can be picked open. It's a lie."

"He didn't need to pick his way inside," Karliah muttered to Ginna as they followed them across the Cistern to the Vault.

"What's she on about?" Delvin stopped, turning back to look between Ginna and Karliah for an answer.

"As I said, there's only one way to find out. Use your key on the lock, Delvin. We'll open it up and found out the truth."

Delvin approached the door and turned his key into the lock before stepping back. "I've used my key, but it's still locked up tighter than a drum. Now use yours, Bryn."

"Aye," Brynjolf nodded, passing a glance over at Ginna before stepping up to the vault and taking out his keys. Ginna held her breath, a part of her terrified that despite everything she'd already seen with her own eyes, the Vault would still be full and they would all turn on them. She heard the tumblers click open, and Brynjolf pushed the doors, his gasp echoing through the Cistern. "By the Eight!" he exclaimed. "It's gone! Everything's gone. Get in here, all of you!"

Karliah and Ginna followed Vex and Delvin into the Vault, but she kept her distance from Brynjolf despite how badly she just wanted to go to him, comfort the immense grief and betrayal that must have been running through him.

Every chest in the room was open, gaping and empty and screaming silent betrayal. Mercer had committed the ultimate in unforgivable crimes against his own Guild: murdering their Guildmaster and stealing from the treasury put in place to maintain their operation.

"The gold," Delvin cried. "The jewels. It's… it's all gone!"

Vex's blades came out again. "That son-of-a-bitch! I'll kill him!"

"Vex," Brynjolf raised his voice. "Put it away! Right now! We can't afford to lose our heads." It was a little late for that, Ginna thought, recalling how easily he'd lost his head in her house. She hated how much it hurt that losing all the gold in their coffers seemed to disturb him more than the fact that Mercer had run a blade through her and left her for dead. "We need to calm down and focus."

"Do what he says, Vex." Delvin reached out to stay her hand, fingers curling gently around her arm to lower her blade. "This ain't helping right now."

"Fine," she sighed, lowering her blade and returning it to her belt as she glared over at Brynjolf. "We do it your way… for now."

"Listen to me. I need you both to watch the Flagon and set everyone on guard at every entryway. If you see Mercer, come and tell me right away."

"Right," Delvin nodded. "Come on, Vex."

"Get your hands off me." She jerked away from him and walked out of the Vault.

"I'm glad you're all right, pet." Delvin turned to Ginna after Vex was gone and lifted a gentle hand to rest on her shoulder. She winced a little, but he didn't seem to notice. "It'd been a downright shame if we'd lost someone as good as you. I always knew you wasn't a traitor."

"Thanks, Delvin," she couldn't smile. She wanted to, but it felt like every muscle in her face had been paralyzed. "It's good to know not everyone lost faith in me so easily." She turned her eyes toward Brynjolf when she said those words, but he only looked away, a shameful downturn of his lips as he avoided her gaze.

Karliah followed Delvin out of the Vault, leaving the two of them alone, but for a long time they just stood there, avoiding each other's eyes, saying nothing.

"I guess I'll get going too," she decided, not able to stomach the silence any longer.

"Ginna," he reached for her arm, but she pulled away, spinning around to look at him. "Wait."

"Now's not the time, Brynjolf." She was being stubborn and she knew it, but no matter how much she'd prepared herself for that reaction, there'd always been a part of her inside that kept wishing he'd held onto hope. After everything they'd already been through together, a little faith would have been nice. She hardly knew Delvin at all, and he hadn't stopped believing in her. "I need to help Karliah track Mercer down."

"Aye, and I want to help you, but…"

"There's always a but."

"No, no, it's not like that. I just… You have to understand where I'm coming from. This is… it's huge, lass. A blow to the gut unlike any I'd ever imagined. All those years, everything Mercer did for me, and it was all one big heist. I can't wrap my head around it. The fact that he murdered my mother and father, Gallus… that he stole everything we all worked so hard for…" It hurt so much that he'd left stabbing and framing her out of that equation of unforgivables.

"I understand." Probably better than he could possibly imagine. For her it was like Brutus all over again, only she was watching it unravel someone else from the outside, an observer who could do nothing to stop the man she loved from falling apart.

"When he told me you were dead, I felt like someone tore out my heart, and then he told me you were working with Karliah all along and I…"

"You believed him. And why wouldn't you?"

Long locks of dark red hair fell around his face to hide it when he dropped his gaze then. "Look, I need to check his books and paperwork, see if he left anything behind that might help me… help us discover where he's gone, but before I do, I need to know everything you learned from Karliah. And I mean everything."

"So that's it then?" she asked, the ache in her heart growing, twisting almost ironically through the dull throbbing ache in her shoulder from Mercer's blade. "You just need to know what I learned from Karliah? All right, for starters, Mercer killed Gallus and your mother and father, not Karliah."

"Right," he nodded. "I already figured as much. From that last entry in Gallus's journal, it looks like he was getting close to exposing Mercer to the Guild. Was there anything else?"

"Karliah was behind Goldenglow and Honningbrew. She's been trying to stir things up here in hopes that someone would start asking the right questions."

"All the while, trying to make Mercer look bad in front of Maven. Clever lass… Anything else?"

She looked out into the Cistern, saw Karliah standing alone in the center, and then she looked back to Brynjolf. She wanted to trust him. Wanted to tell him everything, but her heart wouldn't let her. Not then, maybe not ever again. "I don't know. Maybe, but I can't really remember right now. My mind is still foggy from being stabbed in the back and it might take a little time for me to pull myself together."

"Lass," he finally brought his gaze up to meet with hers, his eyes full of so much pain and sorrow, it almost made her cry. "Please, know how sorry I am for not… for losing faith in you so easily. Mercer… he has a way with things, with words… He took care of me my whole life, and I never for a second suspected he would betray me."

"I think that's what hurts the most," she decided, proud of herself for actually admitting out loud that he'd hurt her. "You asked me to be your partner before I left. Said you wanted to spend the rest of your days with me, and yet the minute Mercer called my loyalty into question, you lost all faith in me. I'm the one who should be sorry, Brynjolf. Sorry I actually thought we had something."

Before he could say another word, Ginna turned and walked away from him, stalking out of the Vault and leaving him to brood with those words. Maybe she was just being stubborn and petty, she didn't know, but her heart had never hurt as much as it did right then.

She made her way to Karliah, who crossed her arms as she approached. "That went better than I expected," she admitted.

"What's our next move?" Ginna asked, anxious to get as far away from the Cistern and Brynjolf as possible.

"I need some time to think," she said. "Time to figure a few things out."

"I'm going home for awhile to clean up the mess someone made there in my absence. And I think I need to figure out a few things myself. When you're ready with a plan, come and find me there. I want to find Mercer and make him pay… just as much as you do."

"Ginna," Karliah started before she could leave. "I know you didn't ask for my advice, but listen to me, please. Gallus and I had a bit of a falling out before… Well, before everything went down. It was nothing major, but we had words with each other I've regretted every day since. Things are about to get dangerous, even more dangerous than they already are, and it could get very ugly. There are no guarantees any of us will live through this at all." Karliah lifted her lavender gaze toward the Vault, a sad smile drawing at the corners of her mouth. "Think about everything he's been through and forgive him… before it's too late."

"Thanks for the advice, Karliah," she nodded. "I'll take that into consideration."

Rune was standing near the exit above the cemetery, on his guard with his blade drawn. He was actually scowling when she approached, but it softened a little. "I knew you'd never betray us," he said, stepping in to hug her. His tight arms around her neck were almost painful, but she didn't care. It felt good knowing he'd never stopped believing in her either, but it only intensified the hardship of how easily Brynjolf had turned on her. "I kept remembering what we talked about in Solitude, how you kept questioning Mercer… None of it made sense at all and I tried to convince Brynjolf, but he was just so… angry." He drew back to look at her, his sad hazel eyes searching her face. "He's impossible to talk to when he's angry."

"Yeah," she nodded. "He left the evidence of his anger all over Honeyside. It'll take days to clean up the mess he made of the place."

"You need some help?" he started to lower his blade into his belt.

"Thanks for the offer, Rune, but you should stay here, keep an eye out for Mercer while Brynjolf figures out what he's going to do about all this."

"Right," he looked down. "I'm glad you're okay though. I was beside myself when Mercer told us you were dead. I should have been there with you."

"No, Rune." She brought her hand up to rest on his arm. "Don't beat yourself. I would have never forgiven myself if Mercer had hurt you too."

"Well, you can guarantee that I won't spare him my blade if he passes through here again. After what he did to you, to the Guild…" Even harder to bear was the fact that Rune had put her first in that equation. At least she knew he was a true friend. She'd never imagined she'd have one of those in her lifetime.

"It'll be a slaughterhouse if he dares show his face in here, that's for sure." She glanced around the Cistern, the bodies at every entryway, blades glinting in the dull torchlight. "I'm heading home for now. I want to try to clean the place up a bit, in hopes I actually live long enough to stay there."

"I'll see you soon," he promised.


	37. Chapter 37

Walking through Riften, she held her head high, as if she really belonged there, and she kept telling herself maybe she did. No matter what happened Between Brynjolf and her, she could see herself staying in Riften, make a good life for herself. Keep running jobs for the Guild and working for Maven until Mercer was taken care of once and for all, and then she'd figure out how best to deal with Brutus.

Ginna wasn't home long before he came barreling through the back door without even knocking. She was on her hands and knees picking up debris, but she'd heard him coming up the back stairs so she wasn't surprised when he burst through the doors, scanning the place until he found her. He stopped, avoiding her eyes as he looked around at the mess he'd made, cheeks reddening with shame.

"I should have cleaned this place up days ago," he broke the awkward silence.

"Well, you can clean it up now," she shrugged. "If Maven sees the place in this state…"

"I didn't come over here to clean up that mess right now, Ginna. I came to clean up the mess I made of things with you."

"Okay." She shrugged again, trying desperately to harden all the parts of herself that seemed to go soft whenever she was near him; namely her heart.

"Put yourself in my position, lass," he started. "There I was thinking that after a lifetime of searching, I'd finally found someone I could trust, someone I actually wanted to share myself with, and you fought so hard to keep me away." It had been difficult for her to let him in at first, but once she had, she'd really let him in. Hadn't he felt that? "By the time I felt like I'd finally gotten through to you, like you were finally starting to let me in… it was too late. And right away I started to think, well no wonder you didn't want to let me in or let yourself get close to me. You never had any intention of staying here and it'd be easier to stab me in the back if you held me at arm's length."

"But I didn't keep you at arm's length, Brynjolf. I let you in." She stood up so they were almost eye to eye. "And it was the hardest thing I've ever done in my life. You have no idea how difficult it was for me to let myself trust you."

"I know, lass, but you have to understand where I'm coming from…"

"I do understand where you're coming from. It's why I didn't want to trust you in the first place, but then I did trust you. I let you in, I let myself get comfortable and familiar and the entire time I was gone, I knew when I came back from this, this was how you'd be." Ginna felt her fists clenching at her sides, fingernails digging into her palms. "Angry, untrusting, resentful, but no matter how much I thought about it, nothing prepared me for the look I saw in your eyes when Karliah and I walked into the Cistern. You hated me, Brynjolf, as much as you hated Karliah. I could see it festering inside you."

"I never hated you," he insisted. "I just felt so betrayed, Ginna, because I loved you. Don't you get that?" he took a step toward her, hand reaching out, but she stepped back. "Ginna, look at me," he begged. "Look at me and see how sorry I am. I know sorry isn't enough, but I lost everything when I thought I'd lost you. My hopes, my dreams, my mind… After the things he did to you, I'd kill Mercer Frey with my bare hands right now if he dared show his face."

Lowering her head, she stared at his scuffed boots for a long time. There were so many things she wanted to say, but she just didn't know where to start. In the back of her mind, she could hear Karliah talking about Gallus, the lament in her voice, the sorrow in her eyes every time she spoke his name. Karliah had lost everything when she lost Gallus, and there was no coming back from that kind of loss. She and Brynjolf still had a chance together…

_Forgive him_, she'd said, _before it's too late_.

She finally lifted her gaze to meet his. "I've never loved anyone in my life, Brynjolf, but the entire time I was gone all I could think about was coming home to you. About how safe I feel whenever I'm with you, and I know it's stupid, that I'm never really going to be safe, but you make me feel that way, Bryn. I feel unstoppable when we're together, like we really could do anything and all I thought was that I should have taken that partnership deal when you offered it to me because now it's too late."

"No," he shook his head, stepping toward her again, closing the space between them and that time he reached for her, strong hands bracing her shoulders, she let him. "It's not too late, Ginna. If you just forgive me…"

"I want to forgive you," she relaxed a little. "But I know in my heart this is never going to work, that we can't really be partners if we can't trust each other, and maybe there's just too much between us now…"

"The only thing between us now is space, lass, this little bit of space." He lowered his forearm down her back until his hand rested on her tailbone, and then he closed the space between them. "You have to know, I'd trust you with my life."

"Would you?" she asked. "Really?"

"Aye," he lowered his forehead to hers, resting there, closing his eyes. "I wish there was some way I could prove it to you, but I don't know how."

When she kissed him then, it was like a healing breath passed between them, easing the gaping ache in their souls. All the sorrow, the longing they'd both felt when apart, the fear and anger, it was gone just like that. Forgiving him was the easiest thing she'd ever done. She melted against him, lifting her arms around his neck to hold onto him in hopes that she never had to let go again. When he finally drew back, he just stared into her eyes and smiled.

"What do we do now?" she asked.

"Pick up where we left off," he said. "Put this nasty business behind us. Try to forget."

"Forget what?" she asked, delighting in the gentle twitch at the edges of his perfect mouth. "Does this mean you still want to be partners?"

"More than ever if you'll have me. I don't want to let you out of my sight ever again."

"And Mercer? What do we do about him?"

"Mercer needs to pay." He drew back. "I haven't spoken to the Guild in any great detail yet, but I get the feeling everyone is of the same mind. I'm sending Rune on an important task, having him break into Mercer's home to search for anything that might tell us where he's gone."

"Mercer has a home here in Riften?"

"Aye, a gift from the Black-Briars after they kicked the previous owners out, a place called Riftweald Manor. He never stays there, just pays for the upkeep. Hired some lout by the name of Vald to watch over it for him when he's away."

"Breaking in sounds dangerous. Rune shouldn't do this alone." Hand lowering from his neck, she rested it on his shoulder as she leaned out to look at him. "I'll go with him."

"I'd do it myself, but I need to work through the few contacts we actually have left and Mercer's got so much paperwork to go through. I don't expect to find anything we can actually use, but I can't leave a single stone unturned."

"We'll take care of it," she assured him.

"The last time I told you to be careful, you must not have heard me, so I'll say it again… Be careful, lass. Mercer's house is the last place in Skyrim I'd ever want to send you. Just find a way in, get the information and get out. And you have permission to kill anyone who stands in your way. Do you hear me?"

"Loud and clear, partner."

"I can't lose you again."

"I'm not going anywhere." She lifted her arms around his neck again and leaned up hug him. "Not without you by my side."

"That's what I wanted to hear." He squeezed her so tight it hurt, but she never wanted him to let her go.

"Now," she turned her mind back to business. "What's the best way to get inside Riftweald Manor?"

"Good question." He drew in a breath and stepped back to lead her to the table to have a seat. "I've only been inside a few times, and that was always in Mercer's company. If you can get past his trained watchdog, your best bet would be the second floor balcony in the backyard."

"I don't suppose this balcony is easy to access."

He laughed a little, an uneasy chuckle, as he leaned back in the chair and stroked his beard. "No. It's some kind of crazy contraption Mercer commissioned for quick escapes. I'd wager a well-placed shot at the ramp's mechanism would lower it in a hurry though."

"Rune," she nodded.

"Aye. He's brilliant with a bow."

"And what do we do about Vald?"

"Real piece of work, that one. Mercer's holding something over his head to keep him loyal. Talk to Vex when you go to meet with Rune. She used to know him very well… if you catch my meaning."

"I'll head over there now."

"And I'll come with you so I can start rummaging through Mercer's papers in the Cistern. In the meanwhile, I'll see if I can get this place cleaned up and back in shape for you before the sun goes down. Oh, and lass…" He dug into the pocket of his pants and pulled something out. Opening his clenched fingers, she felt her already tender heart flutter with joy. "I found this on the floor near the bed after you left."

"My emerald. It must have fallen out of my pocket. I thought I'd lost it for good, that my luck was at its end."

"Your luck was with me the whole time."

"And you kept it, even though you thought I'd betrayed you?"

"Aye," he drew his lower lip between his teeth. "Even then, I didn't want to let the only part of you I had left go."

She dug deep into her own pocket and took out the three emeralds he'd given her the night she'd moved into Honeyside. "When I realized it was missing, I took comfort in these." Opening her hand to show him, he laid his hand atop hers. "Somehow, I knew you'd never let me down."

"My Ginna." He leaned across the table to touch her cheek. "I never want to let you down again."

"Bryn, there was something else I learned from Karliah," she told him. "Something I held back at the Cistern. She may never forgive me for telling you, but I don't want us to keep things from each other."

"What is it?"

"I don't know if this will change anything, or if it even really matters, but Nightingales are real."

She watched his eyes wrinkled at the edges as he tilted his head. "What? Nightingales?"

"Gallus, Karliah and Mercer were Nightingales."

"But I always thought that was just a tale, a myth… Are you sure about this?"

"Aye. She said Mercer desecrated some place called the Twilight Sepulcher, but she wouldn't go into detail about it. She said she couldn't."

"It would seem Karliah and I have a lot to talk about." He drew back and released a heavy breath. "I only hope I can convince her to forgive me as well."

"She will," Ginna said, curling her fingers around his wrist and drawing his palm to her lips to kiss it. "I know she will. She loved you well when you were a boy, Bryn, and she's been watching over you from the shadows for a long time. She's the one who told me to forgive you."

"Then I am in her debt."

"It would seem so," she agreed. "And speaking of debts, I have a small favor to ask."

"Anything, lass. Just give the word."

"It's Marcurio…"

"Marcurio?" He turned his head, brow furrowing and not quite sure he liked where the conversation was going. "What about him?"

"I ran into him in Winterhold when I took Gallus's journal to be translated by an old friend of his at the college. Marcurio was there on business and I paid him to travel with me into Markarth to take care of a few things."

"And…?"

"And it turns out he's not such a bad guy."

"All right." There was a hint of jealousy in his eyes. "What exactly is it you're asking me for?"

"Maybe you could just… I don't know, leave him alone?"

"You want me to leave him alone?"

"I'm not asking you to send him flowers or anything, just… don't threaten him anymore?"

"He told you I threatened him?"

"Said you'd have him drawn and quartered if he didn't stay away from me."

"Well of course I told him to stay away from you. The guy's a menace and don't think I didn't see the way he ogled you. He was practically drooling all over the table that day we came into Riften together."

"Well regardless, he had my back, even when I had to kill a few people who got in my way."

She watched him squint, green eyes flaring with unspoken jealousy. "Did anything else happen between the two of you I should know about?"

Ginna's eyes arced upward as she shook her head. "Bryn…"

"All right," he relented, pushing up from the table. "I'll stay away from him for now, but I'll give no quarter if he even thinks…"

"I thought we were going to trust each other."

"You're right." His shoulders slouched. "Fine, I'll leave your new best friend Marcurio alone."

Grinning, she rose from her chair and stepped up to him again. "Thank you."

"So, does Rune know about this? He'll be heartbroken when he learns you've replaced him… and with Marcurio of all people," he teased.

"You are such a scoundrel."

"A scoundrel, eh?" he drew her close, lips whispering across hers, the soft hairs of his beard bristling over her skin in a way that sent shivers of desire through her. She wanted him, wanted to crawl into bed with him and hide away from the world together.

"I always did have a thing for villains."

"Now I'm a villain, am I?" he laughed. "Not villainous enough to take advantage of this rare and quiet moment to show you just how sorry I really am before the rest of our world blows up in our faces. Come on, lass." He drew back. "We've got work a lot of to do."

"You're a noble man, Brynjolf of Riften."

"Don't say that too loudly, lass. If something like that were to get around my reputation would suffer immensely." He lowered his arm over her shoulders, laughing as he walked her toward the door.


	38. Chapter 38

Back at the Cistern, Brynjolf charged Ginna with relaying the details of their job to Rune while he sought out Karliah in hopes of making amends. He'd kissed her then, right in the middle of the Cistern, in front of everyone, before reminding her one last time, "Careful at Mercer's place. I don't want to lose anyone else I love to that madman."

"I will be careful," she promised, tugging her fingers from his before setting out to locate her mission partner.

Rune was standing near the entrance into the Ragged Flagon with his arms crossed, Vipir beside him and both on the lookout for Mercer. Vipir was actually scowling, brows knitted together, eyes narrowed as she approached. She wondered how long it would take to rebuild the Guild's trust again after the things Mercer had told them about her. Vipir's face softened a little when he looked over at her, and she wondered if maybe Rune had done some damage control.

"Rune, I'm here to relieve you of your duties. We've got a job to do for Brynjolf," she announced.

"Does this job entail the two of us gutting Mercer like a fish?" he brightened at the prospect.

Vipir scoffed laughter into his shoulder. "If that's the case, be sure to save a piece for the rest of us. If I ever see Mercer Frey again, I'll shove my dagger so deep into his heart it'll come out the other side of him still beating."

"Well, if we actually find Mercer, I can't make any promises that I'll share his blood, not after what he did to me," she said. "For now, Brynjolf wants us to head over to Riftweald Manor and break inside to search for anything that might tell us where that bastard's gone."

"Sounds easy enough," he nodded.

"Not so fast, kid," Vipir held his hand up. "It might sound easy, but it won't be. Even if Mercer's not there, he lets some pretty dangerous people stay there from time to time. Bandits, brigands… No doubt he's got quite a heavy crew on patrol over there right about now. Not to mention, Vald."

"You know Vald?" Ginna asked.

"Know him?" Vipir squinted. "I know him all right. He'd just as soon stab you in the back as he would look at you. Be careful out there. Both of you."

"We will."

"And you should go talk to Vex about Vald. She knows him better than anyone else down here. She might be able to give you a bit of insight."

"I'm on my way to do that now, thanks, Vipir."

"Hey, no problem. You two be careful out there."

Vex was sitting at the bar in the Flagon throwing back shots faster than Vekel could refill them. As soon as she sensed their shadows at her back, she growled over her shoulder, "If I see Frey, I'll pluck his eyes from his skull with my bare hands."

"We're heading over to Mercer's place right now," Ginna said. "Brynjolf and Vipir said to ask you about Vald."

"That pig." She slammed back another shot of whiskey as if the mere mention of the man's name only intensified an already righteous and angry fire inside her. "Oh, I have info on him. More than you care to know."

"What if I wanted to get on his good side?"

"Vald? Good side? Ha!" Ginna had never heard Vex laugh before. It was a disturbing revelation that sent chills rolling through her, and for a moment Rune seemed to lead into her as if he were just a little scared. "I think you've got the wrong person. The only thing Vald understands is gold. A man after my own heart." Another shot down the pipes and she slammed the cup down on the bar.

"We need to get past him into Mercer's place. Do you think I could buy him off?"

"Probably, but he'll ask for a whole lot." She tapped her empty cup, but Vekel just stared at it before glancing up at Tonilia for a little help. Tonilia just shrugged and shook her head. "You're asking him to betray Mercer Frey, a favor that won't come cheap. Your best bet would be to erase his debt with Maven Black-Briar. Mercer's been holding it over his head for years. I don't know the details, he would never say, but then we never did much talking anyway." Her lips drew into a smug grin, as if she were keeping some sly secret no one else would ever know. "If you ask Maven she'll probably tell you. I hear she likes you and that bitch doesn't like anyone. Of course, you could always just run him through and take whatever you need off his corpse… I could care less." Her attention quickly shifted back to her empty cup. "Vekel, what the Void? I'm empty here."

"I think you should slow down a bit, Vex," Vekel said softly. "You want to keep sharp in case Mercer comes back."

"Did I just put coin on the bar?"

"Well… yeah, but…"

"Did I put coin on the bar?"

Vekel relented, pulling out the bottle and filling her cup again.

"Thanks, Vex."

Ginna started to walk away, but the other woman called out. "Hey, while you're in there, help yourself to everything you can fit in your pockets. I know I would."

As they were passing by Delvin on their way out the back, Ginna heard him mutter to himself. "I still can't believe it. Stabbed in the back. It's just like the Dark Brotherhood all over again."

"Delvin was in the Dark Brotherhood," she glanced over at Rune as they were walking into the Cistern.

Rune shrugged, "Search me. I've never heard him mention it before."

"Oh the secrets we all keep down in the Cistern," she muttered, walking toward the ladder into the cemetery. She glanced across the walkway to where Brynjolf had already buried himself in paperwork, but he looked up as if he felt her gaze and held her stare for a moment before nodding farewell and returning to duty. "Where's Riftweald Manor?"

"Turn left and head down the alley just outside the cemetery gates. It's just past the Temple of Mara."

They headed left together and ducked into the shadows when they approached the back gate to survey the situation. At first it looked like no one was around, but then she heard humming and a man she could only assume to be Vald walked down the wooden stairs.

"That's him," Rune whispered.

"He's a… big boy," she noted.

Rune nodded, and turned his head back in Vald's direction. "How do we want to do this? Do we try reasoning with him or head over to talk to Maven?"

"I think we should do Vex a favor."

Ginna drew her bow and tugged a poisoned-tipped arrow from her quiver. Rune followed suit, both of them lining the man up in their sight through the slats in the gate and then exchanging quick glances before releasing when Ginna nodded. They watched from the shadows as their arrows hit the mark. He fell forward and twitched a little on the ground, and then went still.

"No honor in that," she said, creeping right to pick open the gate lock.

"Maybe not, but it's still probably better than he deserved."

Ginna clicked open the lock and the gate swung forward on groaning, rusty hinges. Glancing around to make sure no one had seen their crime, they snuck through the gate in Mercer's backyard. "Brynjolf said there's a trap up on the balcony that'll release the steps. You wanna see if you can figure that out while I check our boy here for the keys?"

"You've got it." Rune climbed crept along the walkway to examine the mechanism and Ginna knelt over Vald's still-warm body to rifle through his pockets. She took the little bit of gold he had on him and tugged the keyring off his belt just as Rune was stepping back and lining up another arrow. Ginna stepped out of the way to give him room, and the arrow released in a whisper, thunking into the mechanism and releasing the trap. The ramp dropped down with a heavy thud.

It led up to the balcony entrance and the two of them scrambled up to the second floor to begin trying Vald's keys in the lock. The third key on the ring opened the door, and she eased it inward quietly, slipping inside the storage room just on the other side without a sound. They listened for a few moments, catching the sound of voices in the other room.

Rune drew his dagger while Ginna opened the door to assess the situation. There were two of them, dining at the table in the room just right of the doorway.

"Mead, mead, mead… Would it kill him to get some beer every now and then? Stupid bees and their stupid honey," one of them complained.

"You think you've got problems?" his comrade moaned. "Lyin' little harlot! That brat ain't mine. Could be anyone's. She won't get one rusty septim from me."

"Bees and babies are about to become the least of their problems," Rune murmured.

Ginna stifled a laugh, along with the urge to tell him just how much she'd missed having him at her side.

"What was that?"

"What was what?"

Ginna drew her blades fast, she and her partner swift as shadows as they crept across the wooden floorboards so quietly they didn't even creak under their weight. Neither of the brigands taking up residence in Mercer's house knew what hit them, Ginna and Rune executing a dual assault that took them both out of commission and left them bleeding out and groaning on the floor. A third bandit came out of the side room, swinging a heavy battle axe, but they ambushed him, driving him to the floor and dropping their daggers into him together.

Rune twisted his before wrenching it out and rocking back to rest a moment on his heels. "I get the feeling anyone I have to kill from this day forward is going to look like Mercer in my mind."

"Aye," Ginna agreed. "Unfortunately, it just doesn't have the same satisfaction as I imagine killing Mercer will."

"Did he hurt you?" he asked, rising from where he'd crouched to wipe the blood from his blade.

"Put his blade through me, twisted it real good." Just talking about it made it ache, a pain she was sure she'd have to live with for the rest of her life, whenever it was damp and rainy or cold. "Karliah poisoned me. I was completely paralyzed when it happened, but if she hadn't shot me with that arrow, we wouldn't be having this conversation right now."

"Damn him," he muttered with a sigh. "We will make him pay for everything he's done."

"We will," she nodded.

"So, what exactly are we looking for?" He glanced around the empty house.

"Anything that might point us in Mercer's direction," she said. "And in the meantime, you see anything in this house you want to take home with you, do it."

They split up to cover more ground, combing every inch of Riftweald Manor for clues. Ginna ducked down the stairs to rifle through things down there, and while she was down there Rune called out that he'd found something. She hiked up to join him in the side room, where he stood in front of a wardrobe with a false paneled back that opened into another cellar entryway.

"How much do you want to bet Mercer's hiding down there?" Rune asked.

"I don't make wagers with you anymore," she grinned. "You always win."

"I can't help it if I'm lucky." He pushed in front of her and started slowly down the stairs after announcing, "I'll go first, since I'm the lucky one."

Despite their silent stealth, it felt as if every rung on the ladder leading downward moaned and creaked beneath their feet, but by the time they reached the bottom, they discovered it didn't really matter. Mercer's little hidey-hole was empty, but he'd left plenty of gold and treasure lying around and both Rune and Ginna made no bones about filling their pockets with it.

Winding and rolling their way through the dangerous, trapped hallways of Mercer's private hideout, it was a miracle neither one of them got hurt or killed. By the time they reached his secret office, both of them were out of breath and Ginna could feel her insides trembling from the constant havoc that little trek had played on her nerves. Unlocking the door, they rushed inside still expecting to find Mercer, but instead there was a bust of The Grey Fox and more jewels and coin than Ginna had ever seen all in one place outside a Guild treasury.

"This blade." Rune leaned over a display case containing a magic glass sword. "It's beautiful."

"Take it," she urged him. "Maybe one day you'll get to run it through Mercer."

"Wouldn't that be sweet justice? Killing him with his own blade?" He hunkered down in front of the case to pick open the lock while Ginna searched the table.

One the tabletop, underneath the jewels and gold, she found a very carefully mapped out plan. She lifted it up to inspect it, not exactly sure what it meant. Rune shook his head and said he didn't know either, but maybe Brynjolf would know. Rolling it up, she tucked it into her satchel, and then she and Rune divided the stones and gold between them before she grabbed the bust off the table.

Just beyond that little room, there was a drop down into the Ratway Warrens. Rune lowered himself down first, taking the bust from her to hold it while she shimmied through the hole and landed beside him right in front of the backdoor into the Ragged Flagon.

Delvin was closest to the door when they came walking through it, and as Ginna scanned the Flagon there was a moment of panic when she didn't see Brynjolf there. They'd been scavenging through Mercer's things for a couple of hours; anything could have happened.

Was that how things were going to be for the rest of their days if they didn't hunt down Mercer Frey? Every moment they were apart filled with panic, dread and fear?

"Where's Brynjolf?" She stalked into the Flagon and lowered the bust of The Grey Fox onto the tabletop in front of Delvin.

"Calm down, pet." Had he heard the dread in her voice? "He's out in the Cistern going through Mercer's papers."

"No sign of Mercer then?"

"None at all, the slimy little bastard. You two find anything over at Mercer's place?"

"Tough to say. It looks like some plans. I'm taking them out to have Bryn look over them now. In the meantime, I brought you a little present." She gestured toward the bust, which he eyed with wide, almost lustful eyes.

"Well, well… and it ain't even my birthday." He reached out to draw it across the table. "Are you sure you want to part with this little beauty? Considering…"

"Considering where I come from?" she chuckled a little. "If I never see another Grey Fox as long as I live, it'll still be too soon. It's yours."

"At least let me give you something for it. Here," he brought a bag of gold out onto the table and shoved it toward her. "Eight hundred gold. Just for you."

"Thanks, Delvin. I can always use more gold."

"Rune, you need to pull up a chair and have a drink. You look like you could use one," Delvin said, kicking out the chair across from him.

"Yeah, Rune. Have a drink. I'm going to talk with Bryn."

"All right. Don't you go leaving town again without a word, or I'm coming after you this time."

"I'll let you know before I go if I need to leave," she promised.

As she was walking back into the Cistern, she heard Delvin ask about Mercer's place, Rune's retelling of events growing muffled behind the door when it closed behind her.


	39. Chapter 39

Brynjolf was leaning over Mercer's old desk, paperwork scattered across the surface, hair obviously mussed from the numerous times he'd run his hands through it in frustration over the last couple of hours. He was doing it again as she approached, a heavy sigh deflating his chest. His face did soften a little when he saw her, relief washing away some of the tension.

Had he felt it too? That niggling fear of the heart that something awful would befall one of them whenever they were out of each other's sight? Ginna had never felt anything like that for another person in her entire life, and it was terrifying.

"Good," he sighed again. "You're back. I was starting to get worried."

"I didn't realize how huge that place was. It took forever to go through everything."

"Well, I've gone through everything down here and we've scoured the town, spoken to every contact we have left. No sign of Mercer." He stood up straight, stretching the muscles in his back until they cracked. "Any luck on your end, lass?"

"He wasn't at Riftweald Manor either, but I did find these plans. I can't make heads or tails of them, but I thought you might know what they mean."

"Let me have a look." He reached for them, unrolling the parchment and scanning over it with careful eyes before lifting a hand to stroke his beard in deep though. "Shor's beard." He lowered the parchment to the table beneath him. "He's going after the Eyes of the Falmer. That was Gallus's pet project. If he gets his hands on them, you can be certain he'll be gone for good and set up for life."

The Eyes of the Falmer were legendary, both among thieves and treasure hunters. Buried so deep most thought them lost or forgotten and few dared to delve so far in search of such a fickle payoff. But Gallus had obviously done his homework, judging from the intricacy of the plans between them. It seemed Mercer had been planning to steal that heist for a long time. With plenty of time to prepare, the payoff would be huge if he succeeded. Huge enough to make him disappear for good.

"We need to stop him."

"Agreed," he nodded. "He's taken everything the Guild has left and to go after one of the last greatest heists is just an insult."

"Have you spoken with Karliah?"

"Aye, I have. I made amends for how the Guild's treated her, for how I treated her…" He lowered his head for a moment to hide the shame he still felt. "She forgave me."

"I told you she would."

"You were right," he admitted. "It seems the two of you shared a bond in all of this."

"I guess we did," she nodded. "She saved my life. I trust her."

"She's a valuable friend to have in your corner," he noted. "And she's been waiting for you to return. She wishes to speak with the both of us right away."

"Did she say about what?"

"Haven't a clue."

Ginna glanced across the Cistern. Karliah was making her way toward the center, where she stopped as if waiting for them, silently willing them to join her. She and Brynjolf walked out to meet with her, and for a moment the three of them regarded one another, a strange trinity now bound by an unyielding desire for revenge.

"Brynjolf, the time has come to decided Mercer's fate. Until a new Guildmaster is chosen, that decision falls to you," Karliah began.

"Aye, lass, and I've come to a decision already." He reached over and took Ginna's hand, surprising her with the gesture. "Mercer Frey tried to kill both of you. He murdered my mother, my father, Gallus… He betrayed the Guild and made us question our future." He paused for a moment as if letting every single one of Mercer's crimes sink in more deeply before justifying his own conclusion. "He needs to die."

"We have to be very careful, Brynjolf," Karliah pointed out. "Mercer is a Nightingale, an Agent of Nocturnal. He has power you couldn't even begin to imagine."

"Then it's all true." He'd still had doubts when Ginna told him, she could tell by the way he'd looked at her, but hearing Karliah say it out loud drove the truth home. "Everything I ever heard in the stories. The Nightingales, their allegiance to Nocturnal, the Twilight Sepulcher…"

"Yes, it's all true." Karliah lowered her eyes as if it shamed her to speak of the truth she'd sworn to protect. "And that is why we must prepare ourselves to meet with Mercer on equal footing." Drawing in a deep breath, she was quiet for a moment, as if working up the courage to say the words that next followed. "Just outside of Riften, beyond the southeast gate there's a small path cut up the mountainside. At the end of that path there's a clearing and an old standing stone. I'd ask you both to meet me there at midnight."

"Ginna and I have some important business we need to take care of, but we will meet you there."

"Eyes open," Karliah nodded. "Walk with the shadows."

She watched Karliah walk out of the Cistern, disappearing up the ladder that led into the cemetery before Byrnjolf dropped her hand and turned her to face him. "What business do we have to take care of?"

"Come with me."

"Where are we going?"

"I spoke briefly with Maramal at the temple while you and Rune were at Mercer's place and he's agreed to see us as soon as possible."

"The temple?"

"Aye, the temple." He brought his hand up to tuck her hair behind her ear, fingers brushing across her cheek. "We're going to make this partnership of ours official."

"You can't be serious." She tilted her head in question, her stomach fluttering with nervous tension.

"I'm as serious as an arrow in the dark, lass." His fingers trailed down her cheek, tucking under her chin and lifting her gaze before she could lower it. "I almost lost you once, and I'm not going through that again. We don't know what we face beyond the next few hours, much less tomorrow or the next day or even the day after that. If I go to my grave, I want to go knowing I had you by my side until the very end." His eyes sought hers for an answer, for confirmation when he said, "What do you say, lass? Are you with me?"

It was crazy. Completely and utterly insane. They'd known each other less than two months, and yet Ginna didn't even want to try to imagine a life without Brynjolf in it. And what if he was right and chasing after Mercer meant an end to both of them? She wanted to go out of the world knowing he was waiting for her on the other side. She'd spent her whole life purposely keeping her distance, locking up her heart and her emotions so no one else could ever get inside, but he had. When they were apart, all she could think about was him. Even when she thought there was no hope at all, she didn't want to give up on him. She wanted to stand beside him until the end, beyond the end—into the next life and the next.

Swallowing hard against the rising nervousness that ached in the back of her throat, she nodded without hesitation. "I'm with you until the end."

"Then it's decided." She watched the corner of his mouth jerk into a grin. "We should hurry. The hour grows late and we won't exactly have much time to celebrate." Holding his arm out for her to loop hers through, she stepped up beside him and they made their way out of the Cistern together.

Maramal was waiting for them at the temple, complaining as he gathered them in front of the shrine to perform the ceremony. He began to lecture them right away. Rushing through the blessing of Mara was no way to begin a life together. Marriage was a vow to be celebrated and reveled in, an entire day should be dedicated to the couple, but he simply couldn't deny anyone who'd discovered love in such dark and uncertain times. "Through your shining example, others will come to know Mara, for each journey you make through this world together now, bound as you are by her blessing, so too will those you encounter long to be touched by her grace as you were."

"Brilliant." Brynjolf laughed, a sound Ginna hadn't heard much of since they'd come off the road from Solitude two months earlier. It had been all business and seriousness, stabbings and betrayals. She'd be grateful for more laughter, but it was difficult to say how long it would be before the hard times that had fallen on them lifted, or if they would ever lift at all. "Now if you don't mind, I'd like to get this show on the road. We don't have much time…"

"Oh, all right," the priest groaned, gathering them close before the shrine and beginning the ceremony.

He performed it quickly; probably more quickly than he'd ever done, but it was still steeped in romantic jargon that just a couple of months earlier would have made Ginna want to run the other way. Life was short and Mara's blessing a gift to be treasured. Where two souls once walked separate paths alone, those paths now merged to create a single road they would walk henceforth through this life and the next, together as one in eternal companionship.

_Eternal companionship._

Those words didn't frighten her; they probably should have. There was still so much they didn't know about each other, but she supposed they'd have their whole lives to discover those truths together. When she met his gaze before the shrine, his eyes shone with excitement and wonder, two precious emeralds. She trusted that her heart knew what it was doing, knew inside that they were made for each other. They belonged together.

Mara's blessing or not, nothing was ever coming between them again. Not even death.

"Do you agree to be bound together, in love, now and forever?"

Brynjolf reached for her hand, squeezing her fingers as he looked to Maramal and said, "Aye. Now and forever."

Maramal turned to her then and repeated the vow. Ginna glanced up at the man, listening carefully as he spoke. Returning her gaze to Brynjolf, she nodded. "I do. Now and forever."

They exchanged rings, and when he swept her in to kiss her and make it final, someone in the back of the temple started to clap. They turned to find Rune, Delvin, Vex, Vekel and Tonilia lingering near the doors, watching from the shadows. The four of them left the temple, hanging outside to wait for the newlywed couple to emerge.

"See, Ton, it's not so bad," Vekel lowered his arm over Tonilia's shoulder and for a moment she seemed to soften and lean in against him.

"Welcome to the cozy little family," Tonilia said.

"Congratulations," Rune said.

"'Bout time someone made an honest man of that old scoundrel," Delvin interjected.

Even Vex was smiling, shaking her head as she muttered, "Crazy kids."

_Crazy kids_. That made her laugh all the way to Honeyside, as she realized that was exactly what she felt like when she was with Brynjolf: a kid. Reckless, daring, adventurous, excited about every moment that lay ahead just waiting to be discovered. The cons they would carry out together, the heists, the riches they would build until they had their very own empire. Anything was possible when they were together, and now they would be together always.

As they walked through the front door, something about the place seemed off and then it hit her. It was clean. Everything back in its place, the bed made, corner turned down as if a professional had come in to take care of business while she'd been out looking for Mercer Frey.

"What… how did…"

"I have my ways." He grinned, closing the door behind her and reaching for her. "But I don't want to talk about that right now."

"No?"

"No, lass. I don't want to do much in the way of talking at all, if you catch my meaning."

He tugged her against his chest and hovered over her, eyes shining like jewels in the faded daylight sinking behind the mountain just outside the windows. Hands moving slowly up her arms, he gripped her shoulder and she gasped a little, wincing at the edge of his finger just near the tender place where Mercer had stabbed her. Brow furrowing at the sound, he began to work the buckles on her armor, peeling it away to inspect the scar, soft fingertips passing over the puckered flesh just above her breast before he bent his head to kiss her there.

"Oh, Ginna." He shook his head, chills rippling across the surface of her skin when his lips fluttered there, hair tickling. "This never should have happened," he murmured. "Not to you. I should have been there. I should have protected you."

"No." She lowered her hand to the side of his face, drawing him up again to look at her. "None of us saw this coming. We all did what we were told."

"Aye," he closed his eyes. "Maybe there need to be some changes around the Guild once this business with Mercer Frey is taken care of. A lot of changes."

"I agree."

"But I don't want to talk about those right now either. Right now I want to make love to my wife."

"Your wife," she repeated. "It sounds so… strange."

"Strange, aye," he nodded, "but right." He began to walk her backwards toward the bedroom until they stumbled just a little over the edge of the rug and fell into bed together, laughing.

They undressed each other in a flurry of excitement, as if it were their first time together and they couldn't wait to discover what lay beneath the fabric keeping their bodies apart. Soon their armor decorated the floor and hung from the arm of the chair beside the wardrobe, and the freshly made bed was a tangle of bodies and sheets. He tasted and teased her, she kissed and caressed him, taking great pleasure in his anxious gasps and long, breathy sighs of pleasure.

By the time he finally moved in above her and came down to meet the slow, upward rise of her eager hips, the passion between them had reached an all-time high that drove them into a frenzied dance. A soft cry escaped her lips as he entered her, his weight dropping down to crush her, mouth searching for hers, gliding down over her chin, into the sensitive crook of her neck. Nibbling, suckling, she arched into him hard, unable to control the need to simply merge and become one.

He drove her to the edge of excitement, every furious stroke spurred on by her heightened moans and pleas, and then let her fall as he held himself back from experiencing release with her. It was as if he wanted to savor the ache of denial, building himself back up again and carrying her to that height with him once more before they crashed back down so hard together their bodies shuddered. It was like nothing she'd ever experienced before, not even with him.

She hadn't thought Mara's blessing over their union would alter the act of lovemaking; Dibella maybe, or perhaps that loopy euphoria was just some illusion she created in her mind. But it had felt different. More comfortable, more pleasurable, more meaningful.

They lay together after, still tangled in each other's arms as they caught their breath. He stroked his fingers along the back of her arm, and she traced hers along his cheek, pushing through the unshaven stubble.

Ginna couldn't stop grinning. "If I had known Mara's blessing would make sex better, I would have gotten married a long time ago." She rolled into him, lifting her thigh to rest over his.

He chuckled, groaning and stretching in to cuddle her closer. "It was pretty good, wasn't it?"

"Mm…" She nuzzled her nose into his cheek. "I missed you so much while I was dead."

"Two weeks is a long time to think someone you love is gone for good," he murmured, fingers curling into her hair to hold her face against his. "You have no idea what I went through. At first I didn't want to believe it, and then I got angry. After awhile I couldn't tell anymore if I was pissed off because I thought you betrayed me, or because you went and got yourself killed and I wasn't there to save you."

"I'm so sorry you had to go through that, Bryn," she whispered, emotion catching her voice in the back of her throat as the tears she'd been resisting for weeks finally rose to the surface. She blinked furiously to try and keep them from falling, but it was no use. "After everything you've been through…"

"Shh," he hushed her. "Hey, no." Half-sitting, he brushed the tears from her face. "Don't cry, lass, not on your wedding night. What will your groom think?" He smiled just for her, and then he grew serious once more. "All that's over now. We need to just move on and put it behind us. The only way for us to do that is to take care of this Mercer Frey business for good."

"Karliah didn't make that sound like an easy task at all."

"And it won't be. I don't know what we face if we go after Mercer, Ginna. I don't think I ever realized how dangerous he really was."

"He will pay." She didn't know how, but there was an intuitive tingling in her gut. They were together now; united they could do everything. She really believed that.

"I wish I had your confidence, lass."

"We swore when we met we were going to turn our luck around together," she reminded him. "We have to start with Mercer Frey. He is the center of all that bad luck. Once he's taken care of, everything else will fall into place."

"Aye," he agreed. "But for the next few moments, I just want to hold you in my arms."

She sighed contentment and lowered her head to his shoulder. "I want that too."

The stress and tension of the road finally caught up to her. She yawned and settled in against him, listening to the steady, distant drum of his heart until that rhythm lulled her to sleep.


	40. Chapter 40

She woke to the gentle prodding of his hand as he shook her, murmuring against her ear that it was quarter past eleven. Coming back into herself, it took a moment for her to realize what that meant and then she remembered they had promised to meet Karliah near the standing stone at midnight. As she stretched and tucked into herself for a moment, the events of the day replayed in her mind. She was married now, to the only man she'd ever let herself fall in love with. It made her grin again, the giddiness rising up inside her as she sat up in the bed.

Running her hand into her hair, she looked around her home before turning her attention back to Brynjolf. He was already dressed, and had been very busy while she slept, explaining while she drew back into her armor that he'd consulted with the Guild and come to a few very important decisions.

"But first, we need to find out what Karliah wants with us," he said.

Rising from the chair at the foot of the bed after she'd finished dressing, he was eager to be off, and though Ginna was a little nervous about whatever it was Karliah had in mind, she hoped the other woman had a plan to get them on Mercer's trail and quickly. The sooner they were able to take care of business, the sooner they could begin their lives. Even Karliah, who had seemingly put everything on hold for the last twenty-five years.

"I can't even imagine what it's been like for her," Ginna lamented, lowering onto the edge of the bed to pull into her boots. "Losing everything that mattered to her, living in the shadows all those years…"

Brynjolf dropped into the chair near the bed and positioned his elbows to rest over his thighs when he leaned forward. She watched the hair fall in around the sides of his face when he lowered his head in thought. "I know I was just a child, but I still feel partly responsible for her suffering."

"Oh, Bryn, don't do that to yourself." She reached out and rested a hand over top of his, fingers curling around and gently squeezing. "Mercer fed you lie after lie, and you had no one else. You trusted him. How were you to know?"

"I know you're just trying to make me feel better, lass, but a con man realizing he's been conned… It's never a good feeling."

"You're a good con artist, Brynjolf." Ginna leaned forward and rested her forehead against his, lifting her hand to rest on his cheek. "You'll have the last laugh in the end."

"Bloody well right, I will." He lifted back up again, met with her eyes and for a moment she could see all the pain he'd carried around inside him all those years. "That I never questioned him in all those years is what bothers me the most. Rune said you had your doubts about Mercer from the start, and even when you asked me if I really trusted him, I thought you were crazy to doubt him. It makes me feel so…" His voice trailed off into silence as he swallowed the feelings of inadequacy swelling up inside him and sat up again. "I know I can't dwell on it, but the fact that he nearly killed you makes me angrier with myself than anything."

"Yeah," she nodded, moving back to sit up straight again. "The fact that he nearly killed me pisses me off too. I won't be happy until I'm standing over his dead body, celebrating his end."

"Speaking of which, we should head out to meet Karliah. I know this is probably not the most romantic wedding night, but I swear that when all this is over, I'll make it up to you."

Ginna kissed him, a slow, lingering promise he answered with fierce attention that made her insides tingle with want.

They set out together, leaving through the back door so as to avoid being seen and combing along the lakeside path beneath the half and quarter moons, their conjoined light illuminating the southeasterly passage until the standing stone was visible in the closing distance. Karliah blended in perfectly with the shadows, only stepping into the light to let them know she was already there.

"Good, you're here." She nodded, walking up to meet them. "Congratulations seem to be in order, and I know asking you to leave the comfort of each other's arms on the eve of your union is almost cruel, but…"

"But we all want the same thing here," Brynjolf interjected. "And the only way we're going to guarantee that this little partnership of ours enjoys its due, we must see to this business with Mercer."

"What is this place?" Ginna drew her arms around herself to ward off the night chill, and was grateful when Brynjolf moved almost instinctively closer to her back. His heat radiating out to warm her.

"This is the headquarters of the Nightingales," Karliah explained. "Cut into the mountainside by the first of our kind. We're here to seek the edge we need to defeat Mercer Frey."

"What kind of an edge, lass?" Brynjolf asked.

"If you'll both follow me, I'll try to explain on the way." She turned toward a hidden doorway that led into the mountain, nodding with her head for them to follow. "This way, just up ahead."

Ginna turned over her shoulder in silent question, but Brynjolf only shrugged. "I'm just as puzzled as you are, love."

She supposed it wasn't an appropriate time to gush over the fact that he'd called her love, despite the fact that she'd never gushed over anything in her life, so instead she started after Karliah, winding into the mountain until they came into a cavern entrance.

"So, this is Nightingale Hall?" Brynjolf stopped at her back, taking it all in. "I heard about this place when I was a boy, but I never actually believed it existed. Even when you confirmed the existence of the Nightingales earlier tonight."

Karliah didn't stop walking, but explained, "The assumption that the Nightingales were just a myth was seeded within the Guild on purpose. It helped avert attention from our true nature." Ginna began to follow again, but Brynjolf just lingered there near the entryway with his arms crossed. "What's wrong, Brynjolf?" Karliah paused to look back at him. "I can almost hear your brow furrowing."

"I'm trying to understand why I'm here, lass. I'm no priest and I'm certainly not religious. Why pick me?"

"This isn't about religion, Brynjolf… It's business," she said rather simply, turning back onto the path.

"Wait." It was Ginna's turn to stop. "What kind of business are we talking about, Karliah? Are we here to become Nightingales?"

Karliah didn't answer at first, but continued along the winding, stone path until they came into an open cavern. Torchlight flickered in the sconces that lined the walls, and for a moment Brynjolf and Ginna just took it all in. Karliah finally stopped, holding her hand out as she began talking. "This is Nightingale Hall. You're the first of the uninitiated to set foot inside in over a century." She walked down the stairs, still speaking. "Now, if you'll both proceed to the armory to don your Nightingale armor, we can begin the Oath."

"Time's wasting," Brynjolf sighed. "Mercer's still out there. We need to get this show on the road."

"And we will, but first we need to make certain we are on equal ground with him, or all our efforts will fail."

"Are we to become Nightingales then?" Ginna repeated.

"You appear hesitant, Ginna. What's troubling you?"

"Nothing, I just… I'm not sure about this. Brynjolf…?" She turned back to look at him and he too was hesitating, studying the armor stones in the armory, glancing back at Karliah.

"If this will put us equal footing with Mercer, I think we should trust the lass and take the deal."

Drawing in a troubled breath, she followed his gaze to the armory. "What is the deal though?"

"Slip into your armor and I'll explain everything, I promise," Karliah assured them.

Three sets of enchanted armor awaited claiming from the armor stones. As the trinity approached the stones to accept their armor, they drew back to change out of their Guild armor and into this strange new offering Karliah claimed would give them a much needed edge.

The Nightingale armor was unlike any Ginna had ever seen. Blue-black leather with hooded cowl that covered everything but their eyes and cape, as Ginna shimmied into it, she felt like some kind of super heroine, rather than a thief. She could feel the magic embroiled within the very threads of it, illusion, stealth, silence, skill empowerments perfect for those of their trade. As she turned around to face Brynjolf, she couldn't see his face behind the mask after he drew up his hood, only his eyes. He turned over his shoulder to look down his back and she wondered when he moved back around if she even looked half as good in that armor as he did. Impressive, to say the least, and though she was still leery and confused, she couldn't wait to test out the enchantments she could almost feel humming in tune with her body's vibrations.

"All right, lass," Brynjolf turned into their small circle, veiled eyes leveling over Karliah. "We've got these getups on… now what?"

"Beyond this gate is the first step in becoming a Nightingale," Karliah began.

"Whoa there, lass," he backed up a little, holding up his hand. "I appreciate the armor, but becoming a Nightingale? That was never discussed."

"To hold any hope of defeating Mercer, we must have Nocturnal at our backs. If she's to accept the two of you as one of her own, an arrangement must be struck."

"What sort of arrangement? We need to know the terms," he said.

"The terms are quite simple, Brynjolf. Nocturnal will allow you to become a Nightingale and use your abilities for whatever you wish." She paused a moment to let that sink in. "And in return, both in life and in death, you must serve as a guardian of the Twilight Sepulcher."

"Aye," he nodded, turning toward Ginna. "There's always a catch."

"It seems we don't have much to lose," Ginna said.

"At this point, I suppose we don't." He was thoughtful, silent, and Ginna wished she could see his eyes in that moment. She was willing to do whatever it took to put an end to Mercer Frey, and then as if he'd read her thoughts, he said, "If it means the end of Mercer Frey, you can count me in."

"Ginna?" Karliah looked to her next. "Are you ready to transact the Oath with Nocturnal?"

She looked to Brynjolf once more, the light catching in the shadows that hid his eyes and revealing their brilliant green for just a moment. Whatever they did from that day forward, they would do together. "Aye," she agreed. "I'm ready."

"Good," Karliah turned toward the gateway into the heart of the Temple. "After I open the gate, Brynjolf, stand on the easternmost circle. Ginna, you stand on the western circle."

"All right," he agreed, lowering his arm over Ginna's cloaked shoulder and giving her a much-needed nudge forward. "This is enough to make your head spin, eh?" he muttered once they began walking after Karliah.

"Aye," she murmured, watching Karliah reach for the pull chain that lowered the gate.

The Temple held three stone walkways, and as Ginna and Brynjolf parted ways to make for the opposite edges, Karliah walked straight up the center. Ginna glanced across the temple at her mate, but it was impossible for either of them to even tell if they were making eye contact in that amazing armor. Centering herself on the carved floor glyph, she looked down at the symbol, a beautiful black bird, wings wide-spread, a black moon between them. The same symbol decorated the breast of their new armor as well.

_Nightingales_.

_If Severus could see me now_, she thought… It was impossible to imagine what he'd think, but she had a feeling he would be more proud of her than he'd ever been. Perhaps this new contract with Nocturnal would give her the edge she needed to avenge herself against Brutus, as well as Mercer Frey.

And then Karliah began to speak, arms raised in worship as she summoned the Daedric Prince of Night and Shadows. "I call upon you, Lady Nocturnal… Queen of Murk and Empress of Shadow. Hear my voice."

There was only silence, save for the constant run and trickle of water at her back, and then the lighting in the room shifted, darkening until Ginna could see nothing but the shadows in front of her face. The energy in the temple shifted, air tightening, cooling as if some great force was drawing from it to manifest. And then _She_ did. Nocturnal blazed forth above the glyph that connected the triad in a single midnight blue ball of light that crackled and hissed.

"Ah, Karliah," Nocturnal's voice echoed across the stone walls. "I was wondering when I'd hear from you again. Lose something, did we?"

Ginna glanced over her left shoulder and watched as Karliah dropped to her knees in prostration. "My Lady, I come before you to throw myself upon your mercy and accept responsibility for my failure."

"You're already mine, Karliah. Your terms were struck a long time ago. What could you possibly offer me now?"

Ginna couldn't help but wonder if Brynjolf's religious views had strengthened any there in Nocturnal's presence. She'd always honored Nocturnal in the past, but her respect and admiration for Lady Luck had tripled in that moment.

"I have two others who wish to transact the oath," Karliah told her. "Both wish to serve you in life and in death."

Life and death; funny, Ginna thought, that after spending a whole lifetime avoiding any type of vow that would tie her down, she'd taken two that day, swearing herself first to Brynjolf and now Nocturnal for all eternity.

"You surprise me, Karliah. This offer is definitely weighted in my favor."

"My appetite for Mercer's demise exceeds my cravings for wealth, Your Grace."

"Revenge?" Nocturnal mused. "How interesting." She was silent for a time, drawing the light and energy from the room as she thought over Karliah's offering, and then, "Very well. The conditions are acceptable. You may proceed."

"Lady Nocturnal, we accept your terms. We dedicate ourselves to you as both your avengers and your sentinels. We will honor our agreement in this life and the next, until your conditions have been met."

"Very well," Nocturnal agreed. "I name your initiates Nightingales and restore your status to the same, Karliah. And in the future, I suggest you refrain from disappointing me again."

That midnight blue light wavered downward from above in three long streams and Ginna could feel it pulsing through her. The very essence of night and shadow empowered her, tingled in her veins as it mingled with her blood and soul, binding her to eternal service. She closed her eyes and just let herself experience that moment, that bond with the shadows, and then the light of shadow disappeared, taking Nocturnal with it and bringing Ginna back to the moment.

When she opened her eyes again, Karliah and Brynjolf were already walking down the ramps to meet within the circle where only moments earlier, Nocturnal had made herself known. On shaking legs, she walked out to meet them, stepping in beside Brynjolf as Karliah turned to face them.

"Now that you've both transacted the oath, it's time to reveal the final piece of the puzzle to you. Mercer's true crime."

"You mean he's done more?" Ginna balked, stepping back to cross her arms. Did that man's treachery know no bounds?

"Mercer was able to unlock the Guild's Vault without two keys because of what he's stolen from the Twilight Sepulcher: The Skeleton Key. By doing this, he's compromised our ties to Nocturnal, and in essence, caused our luck to run dry."

So it was a curse! Every Guild in Tamriel suffering the same bad fate because of Mercer Frey's betrayal. Old Delvin had been right from the start. Something out there had been piss-drunk mad at them all along. She bet Brynjolf felt like a real ass, having poked fun at Delvin all those times for being so unfailingly superstitious.

"So, this Key unlocks any door?" Ginna asked, returning to the matter at hand. She recalled how easy it had been for Mercer to unlock the Nordic ruins of Snow Veil Sanctum, the spinning puzzle door without a claw. _Dear Gods!_ No wonder he'd stolen the Key. He could get into everything, anything…

"Well, yes," Karliah answered. "But the Key isn't only restricted to physical barriers. All of us possess untapped abilities, the potential to wield great power, securely sealed within our minds. Once you realize the Key can access these traits, the potential becomes limitless."

Oh, how tempting that potential was to her then. The potential to surpass any door, physical or ethereal, to unlock her own hidden potential and become the most powerful thief to ever walk Tamriel. Her mind lusted for that kind of power, her soul yearning for the ability to literally walk through walls, as her old Guild Family had said she'd always been able to do…And yet, no… It was… wrong. It was what had driven Mercer Frey, and no matter how badly she lusted for that kind of power, she never wanted to become like Mercer… or Brutus, or anyone else without honor.

Most people didn't believe there was honor among thieves; after all, how could one who spent their lifetime siphoning from the wealth of others claim to know honor? But there were codes in place that ensured they were an honorable part of the economic societal structure, just as she'd explained to Marcurio on the road from Markarth.

"It sounds like no one should possess it," Ginna finally said, glancing between Karliah and Brynjolf.

"Good," Karliah nodded, and for a moment it almost seemed as if she sighed relief. Had she been worried the temptation of that power would be too much for them to handle?

"I agree with the lass," Brynjolf noted. "No one should have that key, least of all Mercer Frey."

"Then we are all agreed that the key must be returned to the Twilight Sepulcher once it's been taken from Mercer's dead body," Karliah said.

"Agreed," Brynjolf said.

"Aye," Ginna replied, and then noted with a soft laugh. "I have to say, I think this is the first time I've ever set out to return something."

"Very true," Karliah answered with a bemused chuckle. "In our line of work, it's quite rare we set out to return a stolen item to its rightful owner. But until that key is back in the Twilight Sepulcher where it belongs, no Guild under Nocturnal's influence will know prosperity again."

"Then we should get going."

"Before we depart, there is the matter of the Guild to decide. Brynjolf and I had some time to speak in great detail earlier this evening while you were at Mercer's place and he has an important business matter to discuss with you. Brynjolf?"

Ginna turned toward her husband, brow furrowing beneath her hood. "What sort of business?"

"Listen love, there's one last piece of business we need to settle before we go after Mercer," he started. "The leadership of the Guild."

"Leadership?"

"Aye…"

"Why tell this to me?"

"Karliah and I had a long discussion earlier tonight, as she mentioned. Thanks to your efforts, Mercer's treachery has been exposed. After we deal with him, all that remains is restoring the Guild to its full strength. As a result, we both feel that you have the potential to replace Mercer as leader of the Thieves Guild."

"What?" she stepped back to look at him in disbelief. "You can't be serious…"

"Dead serious, lass."

"What about you? That Guild is yours… It's practically your birthright."

"Ginna… I've been at this game a long time. A long time," he shook his head, and when he glanced down at her, she could see how tired he was. She wondered when last he'd had a good night's sleep. How long it would be before he enjoyed another one. "I've stolen trinkets from nobles and framed priests for murder. I'm good at what I do, maybe even one of the best, but it's all I know. Your skills well match my own and you're a natural leader. I've never been one to lead. Never desired it, never cared for it… Don't want it. Why you refused the cowl of leadership from the Grey Fox when he died, I'll never know, but I don't think you should make that mistake again, lass."

"I…" she lowered her gaze to the sigil on the floor beneath her feet. She didn't know why, but she could hear Maven Black-Briar in the back of her mind, scolding her for walking away from a position of power like some kind of fool. It wasn't a mistake she ever wanted to make again, and yet she just wasn't sure if she was ready. "I don't know what to say."

"Well," he chuckled. "We do have a bit of an errand to run before your coronation, and there is the matter of restoring the Guild to its full strength, so don't go getting all sentimental on me."

"I will think it over."

"All right," he agreed, turning to Karliah. "Now, we have quite the task ahead of us."

"Yes, we should get going."

"I've been pouring over the plans you brought me from Mercer's place and I'm convinced the Eyes of the Falmer in the Dwarven ruins of Irkngthand. The three of us could travel there together. It's at least a two day journey from Riften, maybe even three if the weather is unkind. Mercer's already got a pretty strong head start, so we'll need to make haste."

"We should leave right away."

"Aye, we should," Brynjolf agreed.

"One last word of warning," Karliah added. "Prepare yourselves. We already know Mercer is willing to go to any lengths to get what he wants."

"Aye," Brynjolf nodded. "This will certainly be a fight to remember."


	41. Chapter 41

The three Nightingales traveled in shadow and silence, north through Eastmarch and on slightly west into The Pale, where the old Dwemer ruins of Irkngthand lie nestled and almost forgotten in thick drifts of hard, white snow. None of them had spoken much while they were on the road, and even when they stopped to set up camp, they were quiet, each of them deep in thought.

Ginna couldn't stop thinking about how quickly everything in her life had changed. Though now that she had time to reflect on it all during the long, winding road to Irkngthand, she guessed it hadn't happened as quickly as she thought. Her luck had been running out for years, beginning in her mind when Severus had first become sick. The Guild in Cyrodiil hadn't suffered nearly as bad as Riften, but upon reflection she could clearly see a dwindling line of darkness drifting in like a shade.

On the other hand, meeting Brynjolf had triggered a whole new streak of luck unlike any she'd ever expected to know in her life. Not all of it was good luck, but the good seemed to far outweigh the bad whenever she was with him–or at least it didn't seem near as daunting with someone at her side to help share the burden. Maybe it was daft to put so much thought into it, but it almost felt as if Nocturnal herself had brought them together so they might know strength, to grant them the power necessary to wreak havoc in her shadows and restore fear in her blessed name.

But what if she was wrong about Nocturnal's intentions? Ginna wasn't stupid and she'd never been idealistic when it came to her own future, but Brynjolf gave her something she'd known very little of in her lifetime: hope. And her hope insisted that surely Noctunral's influence would bring them the luck they needed to see Mercer Frey to the justice of a very blood end. But what if that wasn't what Nocturnal wanted at all? Severus had often spoken of Lady Luck's fickle appetite and wavering whim, and now that she'd come face to face with Her Shadowship, Ginna had witnessed firsthand just how cruel a mistress Luck could be.

She didn't want to fool herself into thinking she deserved a happily ever after, even if that was what she wanted more than anything else in the world. Her heart kept lingering on that dreadful possibility: what if the life she and Brynjolf longed to share together was over long before it was even given a chance to start? They were bound in service to that cruel mistress, as well as each other, but what if their contract to Nocturnal proved stronger than the vows and promises they'd made to Mara and each other? Thinking about it made her shudder under a cold fear unlike any she'd ever known. A life without Brynjolf was no life at all; not even an afterlife.

And if they did manage to defeat Mercer, then what? Him even suggesting that she lead the Guild still made her head spin, possibly more than them becoming Nightingales. She'd wanted to stay in Riften, keep herself firmly planted within the Guild, within Maven's good graces, but to take Mercer's place as Guildmaster? It seemed so… sudden. A part of her still didn't understand why he didn't want the position himself. He said he didn't want to lead, but she'd witnessed him taking care of business for Mercer, running things with Vex and Delvin. That Guild was already his. Why not, at the very least, run it with her? Like partners?

She woke alone on their second night of travel, Karliah having turned in and Brynjolf taking over watch duty for the last two hours in camp. Ginna made her way out to join him by the fire, hunkering down to crouch beside him and share the heat he offered freely when he lowered his arm over her shoulder to tug her closer.

"You've still got a couple hours of sleep if you want it, lass. You should take advantage of it. We face Mercer soon enough, and you'll need all the energy you can muster." He didn't turn to look at her when he spoke, but kept his distant gaze centered on the small fire. She wondered what he was thinking, if his mind was churning over the same thoughts that plagued her mind almost endlessly since they'd uncovered the truth about Mercer.

"I'm not tired." She laid her head against his shoulder and exhaled a long breath laden with confusion and woe.

"What's on your mind then?" he asked. "Having second thoughts about all of this? About me and all my baggage?"

"Don't be stupid," she muttered. "It's just as much my baggage as it is yours, especially now. I'm the one who got run through, remember?"

"Aye, a crime I intend to repay tenfold."

"You and me both."

"We'll put our blades in him together then."

They were quiet for a time, the whistling wind swirling at their backs, the fire cracking, spitting, hissing whenever a squall of snow drifted in to melt around the edges. Ginna found her mind wandering beyond Mercer once more, to the life that awaited them if they actually managed to track him down before it was too late.

"And then what?" she asked after a silence so long, she actually felt him turn his head downward to try and look at her better in the firelight.

"And then what what?"

"After we take care of Mercer, then what?"

"Everything." He shrugged, dropping back to sit on the cold ground and tugging her in to sit beside him. He drew her closer and lowered his chin atop her head. Ginna snuggled in, content with the closeness of his body to hers, the warm exhale of his breath as it fluttered through her hair and cascaded down her cheek. "We'll take care of your business in Cyrodiil, rebuild the Guild, maybe eventually have a family."

"A family?" She scoffed a little at the notion and drew out to look at him. "You can't be serious."

"Can't I?"

Ginna watched the corner of his mouth draw wider, a playful light shining in his eyes when he met her gaze. "My childhood was nothing worth remembering. I wouldn't want to ever put anyone else through that."

"And neither would I, which is why we would be the perfect family. We already know how not to parent, so we could do it right."

"What? And raise little pickpockets?"

"Why not?" That grin broadened even more, and he tugged her back in close again. "It's a good trade. Between the two of us, we could raise a couple of pretty sneaky thieves, I think."

Ginna couldn't help the laughter that bubbled up from deep inside her, and she covered her mouth to keep from waking Karliah. Though if she knew Karliah even half as well as she suspected, the woman probably wasn't asleep anyway. Not after everything she'd been through, not with Mercer just a blade's edge away from finally quelling the fire of revenge that had burned inside her almost as long as Ginna had been alive.

Resting her head on his shoulder again, she shook it, burrowing deeper against him. "Maybe we should have talked about the things we wanted before we got married."

"I want what you want, Ginna," he murmured. "I've known it since I met you."

"And what if I don't want babies?"

"Then you don't want babies," he shrugged. "But I think you do. Maybe you just don't know it yet. Think about it, lass. The chance to have a real family. Our family." He let her dwell on that for a moment before adding, "It'd be stronger than any Guild we've ever been a part of."

And she did think about it, her mind trying to wrap around that concept. Had Bryn's parents foolishly thought the same thing when they brought him into the world? The optimistic possibility of family unity blinding them to the dangers they were putting themselves and their son in?

Their lifestyle and occupation didn't exactly promote the kind of family atmosphere conducive to raising children. A thief's Guild was generally the only family she would ever need, but what if they could turn all that around? It reminded her once more of the conversation she'd had with Marcurio in Markarth, about her trade being just as valid as any other. And was it really any more dangerous than being a warrior or soldier, a sell-sword or mercenary? Life itself was downright treacherous in their world; it didn't matter who you were.

She hadn't been around very many children in her lifetime. Severus hadn't taken on any others after her, so Ginna never had any younger guild siblings to look after and the children she used to play with in the streets hadn't exactly been much to get excited about. Brats, all of them. They'd mocked an ridiculed her, made her feel small and powerless and alone because they all had families to go home to at the end of the day and Ginna had nothing but her old, drunk daddy before Severus took her in and taught her how to turn that darkness to her favor.

How many nights had she cried herself to sleep, even after the Guild became her home? How many times had she cursed the world for being such a cruel place for a child all alone?

They were all orphans, but if she and Brynjolf had a family, they could change that. Give their own children a good life, the kind of life every thief she'd ever known daydreamed about—whether they liked to admit it, or not—even her. As a girl, she'd only ever wanted her father to love her, but the man hadn't known how. Severus had done the best he could, but the damage her father had done had made her bitter and untrusting and cold.

Being with Brynjolf had taught her how to trust in ways she'd never imagined she'd be able to do. It made her feel full and whole and warm, and even if it was foolish, their love gave her hope. For a moment she could almost feel the threads of that love twining around her, and in that same moment she knew a family would only make that bond they shared even stronger.

"Maybe," she said after a long silence. "Eventually."

"Aye." His fingers trailed down her arm and his shoulder burrowed in closer to hers, the side of his head resting atop her own as the long strands of his hair fluttered across her face when the wind blew. "Eventually, but first we need to worry about Mercer. Crime is one thing, murder is another, lass. He will answer for everything he's done."

"I can't imagine how difficult all of this has been for you."

"I'd rather you didn't try to imagine it. He's put you through enough already."

"I know, but it makes me angry whenever I think about all he's done to you."

"You and me both. I just want to crush him with my bare hands."

"You'll get your chance soon enough," Karliah said softly from behind them. "It looks like I'm not the only one having trouble sleeping."

"Maybe we should take advantage of the darkness and get to Irkngthand then," Ginna suggested.

"I agree with the lass," Brynjolf said.

"Let's pack up our camp and head out," Karliah nodded. "If we go in from the northern peak, we can avoid the bandit raiders that make the grounds their home. The fewer adversaries we face on the way to meet with Mercer, the better."

"Then it's settled."

Brynjolf pushed up from the cold ground and held his hand out to help tug Ginna from her seat. His warm fingers curled around hers and when he drew her to stand, for a moment they stood together, trading glances in the darkness. Whatever they faced, they faced it together, now and had her back and she had his. She only hoped the Gods weren't setting them up to fail.


	42. Chapter 42

In silence the three of them packed their camp and headed further north, into the mountains above Irkngthand. The sun was barely rising when they scaled the icy slick and treacherous rock face before carefully dropping down in front of the golden doors that led into the old ruins. Ginna leaned over the edge, catching a glimpse of movement below; bandits patrolled the ground, but silence and shadow kept them hidden.

Karliah went first, pushing through the doors with Ginna and Brynjolf at her back. The dull, gas lighting that never seemed to die out in those old ruins lent an eerie, greenish glow to the interior chamber of the Arcanex, which quickly exposed the mayhem Mercer had left in his wake. "Mercer's been here," Karliah announced, scanning the room as the doors closed behind them. "I hope we're not too late."

Ginna stepped up behind her, Brynjolf looming over her left shoulder to survey the damage. Bodies littered the interior chamber; five bandits left dead in their bedrolls, slippery spatters of red painting the walls and floor. For a moment Ginna wondered if he'd come into those ruins with an entire army.

Brynjolf released an exasperated breath behind his hooded mask. "If he caught them in their sleep, maybe it hasn't been long since he's been here. The sun's only just now coming up."

"Then we need to make haste. We can't afford to waste a single moment if he's already been here for hours."

"I know it's probably pointless, but we should check these bodies, make sure there aren't any necessary keys Mercer was foolish enough to leave behind," Ginna suggested.

They split up, searching through the dead for keys, but found nothing of consequence. Ginna had never taken issue with searching the dead before, but something about rifling through the pockets of those bandits gave her chills. Maybe it was just knowing it had been Mercer's blade that saw them to their end, that he was just a breath away from one last battle. Whatever it was, it made her nervous and when she stood up to glance over at Brynjolf, she could see nothing but his eyes behind his hood and the same emotional trepidation was in them.

"Nothing," he held up empty hands.

"Me either," she said.

"We should go." Karliah's tone was frantic, though Ginna could tell she was trying desperately to hide it. She had waited too long, come too far to lose track of Mercer now. "We can't let him get too far ahead of us. We have to catch up to him before it's toolate."

"We will catch him," Brynjolf promised, but even he didn't sound sure.

They climbed the stairs and headed right, around dismembered mechanical spiders and through winding chaos that eventually led into a spiraling fire that felt impossible to slip around. More than once, Ginna felt Brynjolf pushing her aside to take the heat of nearby flames sweeping closer, the smell of singed fabric burning in her nostrils when she inhaled. Spiders met them at every turn and Dwarven Guardians looking for a fight.

Ginna wondered how Mercer had gotten past them all without a fight, but the closer they drew to the lift, the more dismembered spiders and battered Guardians they found. Entering the lift, Brynjolf knelt to activate the lever that would lower them into the ruins and Karliah said softly, "We should tread carefully. I wouldn't be surprised if Mercer's left behind a few surprises for us."

"I can't wait to get my hands around that bastard's neck." Brynjolf moved back to stand beside Ginna, his presence a comfort that quelled the trembling nervousness in the pit of her anxious gut.

Even her instincts hadn't warned her that Mercer Frey would be so dangerous. They'd alerted her that something wasn't quite right about him, but she'd never imagined the full extent of peril that lay hidden behind his cold, calculating eyes. Had he not put his blade through her and betrayed her to Brynjolf, Ginna might have found herself admiring the level of skill he obviously possessed. On the other hand, knowing that skill had been gifted to him by Nocturnal removed the sliver of respect she could feel tingling in her mind. Without Nocturnal, she imagined Mercer wouldn't be much at all. It was a shame Nocturnal didn't seem to care one way or the other how he drew from the powers she'd extended to him. All she wanted was her bloody Skeleton Key.

The lift brought them down into stairwell that opened to a swinging ball-spike trap no one was standing close enough to the door to even feel the breeze from.

"Surprise," Ginna mumbled under her breath, her eyes rolling beneath her hood. "He's going to have to do a lot better than that to throw me off my game."

"Aye, love," Brynjolf agreed. "But let's not get too complacent. The last thing we want is to think we've got him figured out. That's when the knife will come out of the darkness."

Karliah slipped through the doors, kicking aside piles of scattered dwarven spider parts and surveying the small room they'd come into. It led through a caged walkway with a tempting lock to Ginna's left, and loathe as she was to pass up an opportunity for Dwemer treasure, she passed it by and headed straight into the open room at the end of the hall.

That room was locked behind bars, imprisoning them for the moment, but Karliah spotted a hint of movement down below and rushed to lean against the bars, gripping them tight in her hands. "Wait a moment," she gasped. "What is that?"

Brynjolf and Ginna stepped up on either side of her, watching the darkness for signs of its shifting. "What do you see?"

"It's Mercer," she tightened her fingers around the cage that held them in and then let go to reach for her bow. "Look, down there." Ginna followed the line of her finger, spying the flutter in the dark shadows in the room just feet away, but completely out of reach. At least they were close, she told herself. "We have to find a way to get down there, and quickly."

"I'm on it, lass," Brynjolf assured her, drawing his blade and his lockpick before rushing across the bars. "Damn it!" he cursed. "There's no way through!"

"He's toying with us," Karliah whispered. "He wants us to follow him."

"We can't bloody well follow if we don't know how to get down there."

"Bryn, Karliah, over here." Ginna had followed the back wall to an exit. Both of her companions rushed over to join her, following through the curving corridors and crumbled structure until they came into an open room that looked similar to the one they'd seen Mercer in.

"Look at the size of this place," Brynjolf marveled. "Have you ever seen anything like it in your life, lass?"

"I can't say that I have," Karliah mused. "Imagine the riches hidden within these walls."

"The temptation of exploring those riches is almost more than I can bear," Ginna admitted.

"Keep focused, lass. There'll be plenty of opportunity for exploration once Mercer's been disposed of."

Crawling silently through the ruins, they came upon strange dwellings, crude structures that reeked of strange must and poison. Ginna was just leaning in to inspect one of them when she heard Brynjolf draw his blade behind her. She spun, tugging the Nightingale blade Karliah had given her out of her scabbard and darting in the direction of the skirmish.

The creature he was fighting was unlike any she'd ever laid eyes on. Twisted, grey-skinned and almost elven in appearance, its blind eyes needed to vision to guide the fury of its vengeful, poisoned blade in battle. Falmer…

"Brynjolf," she called out, but no sooner had the words left her lips than did a host of those ugly creatures crawl up the stairs, arrows whizzing all around them, blades flashing in the dull light of the ruins as the three of them battled their way through. When the last one fell at her feet, Ginna gasped to catch her breath, spinning around quickly to find her mate. "Bryn?"

"I'm here, lass. Are you all right?"

"Fine. Karliah?"

"I have a feeling those are only the first of many we will face before we reach Mercer."

"Good, I could use some practice before I turn my blades on Mercer."

Ginna kept quiet, not wanting to remind him that overconfidence was not the avenue to take just then. Brynjolf seemed to thrive on ego, and maybe a little ego would keep them all from sinking into despair. They kept moving, analyzing the locked door below before studying the upper level again only to discover the levers waiting to lift the gate. Karliah lingered near the gate with her bow drawn and ready for enemies, while Ginna and Brynjolf hiked back upstairs to release the levers.

It took several attempts to time it properly and finally open the gateway, which led through crumbling pillars into a wide open area littered with Falmer. Standing in the entryway, Brynjolf surveyed the room, leaning back to cross his arms. "Looks like we can take the low road or the high road across this chamber. What do you say, lass?"

Even the low murmur of his voice had alerted the Falmer, who had turned their sightless eyes in their direction. "Let's take the high road," Ginna decided. "And try to keep as far away from those Falmer as possible."

"Aye," he agreed.

They high road wasn't any less treacherous than the low road, they discovered, battling their way through the Falmer and drawing attention from the ground floor below. Barely twenty-feet across the road, the entire ruins began to tremble, and Ginna hunched down the brace herself, grateful for the feeling of Brynjolf's hand reaching for hers. After the ground steadied again, small bits of stone still raining for several minutes, they made their way carefully through until they came to a platform climbing spiraling up to a door.

Beyond that golden door lay bear traps, waiting to catch them off their guard and Ginna, who was starting to feel the exhaustion of the last few weeks catching up to her, nearly stepped in one herself. Signs of Mercer were everywhere, from the trail of blood and dead Falmer, to the empty chests he had obviously gone to great lengths to fill his pockets from.

Heading out through the gateway on the opposite side of the room, Brynjolf stepped back and held his arms out to hold them behind him. "Shor's bones, look at that monstrosity."

Ginna followed his gaze toward the massive Dwemer construct lingering in an ancient doorway. "What is that thing?"

"It's a Dwarven Centurion," Karliah gasped. "Very tough and very deadly."

"Do we take it on, or sneak around it?" Brynjolf questioned.

"I say we sneak around," Ginna suggested.

"I agree," Karliah nodded.

They had to deal with the Falmer before sneaking past the Centurion. From the shadows, all three of them strung their bows, loosing silent arrows through the darkness and tilting the odds in their favor. When the Falmer were little more than slack puddles of blood and bone on the ground, the three Nightingales crept silently past the Centurion. They followed the passage down to another landing, swarming with Falmer and frostbite spiders, which had always given Ginna the creeps. Spiders shouldn't be so large, but Brynjolf and Karliah made quick work of them, while Ginna unleashed a host of arrows from the path to thin out the Falmers' numbers.

Glancing up from the doorway, Karliah shuddered. "This was where we saw Mercer before."

"Then we've got to be getting close," Brynjolf noted, glancing toward the door.

"I hope we're not too late," the elf fretted, and Ginna could almost see her chewing at her bottom lip beneath her hood.

"Have faith, Karliah." Ginna reached out to touch the other woman's arm. "We are here to do Nocturnal's will."

"You're right," she said with a slow nod. "Our Lady of Shadows will guide us."

But it didn't much feel like Nocturnal was on their side when they entered the Slave Pens. "Ugh," Brynjolf groaned. "That stench. This place reeks of Falmer."

"This must be their hive," Karliah deducted. "We'll need to keep silent if we want to keep from drawing their attention."

After slipping past two dwarven spiders, they crept down into an old torture chamber, long-forgotten evidence of the unspeakable deeds that had once occurred there still staining the floors and devices used to torment the Falmer. There were two of them waiting in the shadows below, but Brynjolf, who'd taken the lead for a moment, gestured to a spinning blade trap lever, which Karliah jerked downward without hesitation. Ginna couldn't watch those spinning nightmares rise and whirl like blood-spattered pinwheels of death, so she turned her gaze downward and closed her eyes until the whistling spin of blades disappeared with a loud clunking groan.

What was left of the Falmer painted the walls, the stench of death mingling with blood and nearly making her squeamish, but she managed to keep from vomiting as the three of them tiptoed through the carnage and came out into a bed of firetraps that caught Ginna off her guard and sent her tumbling forward to her knees with a start just a breath away from the flames.

Brynjolf was at her side before the fire stopped sputtering, inspecting her with eyes she could barely see behind that mask. "Are you all right, lass?"

"I'm fine," she shook her head. "It just startled me, is all."

Up ahead, Karliah had snuck forward to scope out the situation, returning just as Brynjolf was helping her to her feet. "Were you hurt?" she asked.

"I'm all right."

"Good, we'll need everyone in top shape. We're getting closer, I can feel it. There's a nasty Falmer nest just up ahead. We can either slip through it, or face them head on. Either way, I don't care, so long as we get to Mercer."

"I say we take our chances trying to sneak around," Brynjolf suggested.

Once everyone was agreed, they set forth again, blending almost perfectly into the shadows. At least twice, Ginna was literally just a hair away from the enemy and only the Chaurus Reaper in the pit seemed to draw the Falmer's attention long enough for her to slip past with a hidden exhale of relief.

"I can hear water rushing through these pipes," Karliah whispered, gesturing to the set of ancient pipework running beside them. "We must be beneath a lake."

They worked through those pipes, sticking to the shadows until they came out in another extension of their hive. "Keep as quiet as you can," she told them. "The Falmer may be blind, but they can still hear us."

Ginna only nodded, following Karliah along the well-worn and darkened path. As she glanced up to spy a group of Falmer milling around their Shaman, she shuddered just a little. They were hideous beings, wretched, filthy beasts and it was hard for her to imagine they'd ever been elves. Elves were beautiful, even the Dunmer, and there were some who claimed the Snow Elves were once the most beautiful of all, but darkness, hate and betrayal had twisted them; body, mind and soul.

They terrified her and when she felt Brynjolf moving in close behind her, she wished they were anywhere but Irkngthand together. Standing on a mountaintop watching dragons circle overhead… sleeping in that musty old cave just outside of Markarth… somewhere, anywhere that provided even just an illusion of safety. She wanted to reach back and grab his hand, hold him near and beg him to promise it was all going to be okay.

Fear… an emotion she hadn't allowed to dominate her since she was a little girl barely old enough to think for herself. She shuddered inside her armor, and as if he felt the rising trepidation, Brynjolf's hand rested for a moment on her hip as they paused to overlook the landing down below. One by one, they dropped down and stealthily moved through the Falmer unnoticed until they came to a bizarre gateway that led to a set of stairs and a golden door.

She was grateful to have the two of them with her before passing through that door, as the sound of the gate's movement alerted the enemy to their presence and a swarm of angry Falmer attacked.

Arrows rained down upon them from all sides. The Shadowlurkers shot out long streams of lightning, but Brynjolf spun in to stagger him from behind, knocking the creature to his knees and allowing Ginna to finish him off with a quick drop of her Nightingale blade. Karliah rolled through quickly, firing arrow after arrow until the three of them were safely down the stairs and pushing hard against that golden door.


	43. Chapter 43

In all the mayhem, no one realized just how close they'd gotten to Mercer until those doors opened, streams of pale light illuminating the most glorious statue Ginna had ever seen. The echoing clink of hammer on stone drew their attention to the shoulder of that statue where Mercer Frey was hard at work wrenching free the largest gemstone any of them had ever laid eyes on. There was a second one poking out of the heavy satchel draped across his back; both eyes glistened like glorious snowflakes in full moonlight and for a moment all Ginna could think about was getting her hands on those stones.

Beautiful, so beautiful, and there would be no problem finding a buyer if she could just get to them. The profit from just one of them alone would be more than enough to help get the Guild back on its feet. And with the other, well… they'd be set for life. Neither her, nor Brynjolf would ever have to run another heist or con unless they wanted to. That house in Markarth was as good as hers. All she had to do was get those jewels.

Then her gaze returned to Mercer, the heart in her chest thumping with the rage of betrayal. That man had tried to kill her. No, he hadn't just tried; he'd killed her, run his bladed through her and left her for dead in Snow Veil Sanctum. He'd turned the only man she'd ever trusted, ever loved against her with lies and all so he could make those precious beauties his. He needed to die. Her right foot moved forward almost with her notice and then Karliah gripped her arm and squeezed, holding her in place.

"He's here," she murmured, her voice a choking whisper that sounded lodged in her tight throat. "And he hasn't seen us yet. Brynjolf, guard the door."

"Aye, lass," he nodded, ducking back into the shadows near the door. "Nothing's getting by me."

Her small fingers pressed hard, and Ginna realized when she felt her flesh begin to bruise beneath her armor that Karliah didn't even know her own strength. "Ginna, climb down that ledge and see if you can…"

"Karliah," Mercer's voice rang through the chamber. "When will you ever learn you can't get the drop on me?" There was a strange flash and for a moment he flickered, disappearing as the chamber trembled and then reappearing several feet away from where he'd been when last she saw him.

Ginna was already climbing down the ledge when it happened; the force of the earth's shaking sent her stumbling down the stairs. She righted herself, even as the chamber continued to quake, great heavy stones dropping from the ceiling above and smashing to the ground just near her feet. Bits of broken rock and dust spattered against her shins, but she didn't feel it. The only thing she felt was her boiling lust for vengeance. Mercer raced down the statue's extended arm, arriving at the landing just feet away from her. It was a stone book in its arms, and he'd perched upon it with his arms crossed. There were three dead Falmer at his feet, their sightless eyes staring up in what appeared to be reverence at that glorious statue.

She started to reach for the bow on her back, but there was no time.

"I should have known," he mused, his cold eyes squinting down at her like an unspoken curse. All along it had been hatred in his eyes whenever he looked upon her. Loathing strong enough to consume a man. How had she not seen it? "When Brynjolf brought you before me I could feel a sudden shift in the wind. And at that moment I knew it would end with one of us at the end of a blade."

"You had your chance to kill me, Mercer, now it's my turn to return the favor." In all her life she'd never taken pleasure from killing; it was an occasional necessity, not something she was ever proud of. Killing Mercer, however, was going to bring her so much joy. She was almost ashamed for recognizing that. "Give me the Skeleton Key."

"What has Karliah been filling your head with? Tales of thieves with honor? Oaths rife with falsehoods and broken promises?" He scoffed just a little when he asked her those questions, seemingly waiting for her to answer. When she said nothing, he went on. "Nocturnal doesn't give a damn about you, or the Key and she certainly doesn't care about anything having to do with the Guild."

"It's not about Nocturnal, Mercer," she seethed. "This is personal. You owe me a debt and I'm here to collect."

"Revenge, is it? Have you learned nothing in this trade of ours?" he questioned. "It doesn't matter who brought you up, who trained you or what values your mentor claimed to have instilled within you. Open your eyes, little Ghost and realize how little my actions differ from yours. Both of us lie, cheat and steal to further our own end."

"That may be so, but the difference is, I still have honor, Mercer."

"Honor?" He threw back his head and laughed. "Is that the liars' song they sing in Cyrodiil? It must be. Gallus was always going on about honor among thieves, but it's clear that you're as much as fool as he was. You'll never see the Skeleton Key as I do. As an instrument of limitless wealth and power. Instead you've chosen to fall over your own foolish code."

"If anyone falls, it will be you."

"Then the die is cast and once again my blade will taste Nightingale blood."

Ginna drew her blade, Gallus's blade, ignoring the sound of Brynjolf and Karliah's protests from the landing behind her. Her lover called out to her to wait, lest she get herself killed and there was a flashing moment when she remembered they had promised to kill him together. Then her fury drove her forward, down the last few stairs and up the ramp as Mercer called out, "Karliah, I'll deal with you later, after I rid myself of your irksome companions. In the meantime, perhaps you and Brynjolf should get reacquainted. He's got a real temper, that one… In fact, I might not have to deal with you at all by the time he's through."

"Wait!" Brynjolf cried out. "What's happening? I–I can't stop it!"

"Fight it, Brynjolf!" Karliah begged. "He's taken control of your rage. Don't let him! You have to fight it! You're stronger than he is. Nocturnal, please cloak us in the protection of your shadows."

For a moment, Ginna was torn, her gaze drawn back over her shoulder to the landing where Brynjolf had drawn his blades to attack Karliah. How? Was the potential of the Skeleton Key truly so dark that Nocturnal would give whoever held it the power to control the very people around him? Brynjolf struggled against his own arms, the swinging blades in his hands lashing out at Karliah as he ground his teeth and cried out in protest.

"Brynjolf!" she called out, forgetting about Mercer for a moment and edging her way back toward him.

"Stay back, Ginna! I'll never forgive myself if I hurt you," he warned. "Just go! Kill him! Kill him before he destroys us all!"

"I can't just leave you."

"Please, lass." The desperation in his voice broke her heart. "You've got to kill him!"

The clash of blades on the landing above distracted her and in a flash Mercer appeared behind her, the hilt of his Dwarven blade slamming into her shoulder so hard she stumbled forward to her knees. Palms skidding across the stone, the rage was back, mingling with her hatred as she spun around quick and swept her leg out to knock him off his feet. She caught him, and he fell, but when he landed he disappeared. From somewhere behind her, she heard the scramble of loose stone beneath foot.

Mercer bellowed a spiteful promise. "I'll spit on your corpse!"

Ginna listened to the way the words echoed off the walls, reverberating back to give his position away. She was already on her feet again, racing out to match blades with him and staggering him with a heavy blow that teetered his unsteady footing on the edge. But Mercer was quick, maybe even quicker than her and whatever power Nocturnal had granted him made it almost impossible for her to keep track of him. Every time she thought she had him, he disappeared once more, reappearing just over his shoulder and giving her barely enough time to block the downward arc of his sword.

"Nocturnal, please," she muttered under her breath. "Give me the strength to do your bidding and I swear I will make you proud to call me your Sentinel."

They were near the edge again, Mercer rushing at her, but Ginna reached down inside herself and drew from the well of hatred and betrayal that ran deeper than she could have ever dreamed. It swelled up like an erupting volcano and with a mighty battle-cry, she rushed at him, blade slicing across the chest of his armor as her free hand shoved. Mercer's eyes widened with unspoken horror, crumbling stone giving way beneath his feet. Arms flailing, mouth agape, Mercer Frey reached for her as he toppled over the edge, but his slippery fingers lost their grip and Ginna clutched tight to the structure to keep from falling to her death.

His sword hit the ground first, a clatter of dwarven metal on stone and then Mercer crumpled with a thud, rolling several feet down the incline. He didn't struggle; he didn't voluntarily move at all and she knew the fall had killed him. The sanctuary shook and trembled again, but Mercer's fall had not been nearly heavy enough to cause the structure to rumble the way it was. Something else was happening. The sanctuary was about to collapse in upon itself, but her work still wasn't finished.

She raced down the statue to the landing where Mercer had fallen and for a moment she just hovered over his dead body, a part of her still not quite convinced that he was dead. She drew her blade again, Gallus's blade, and pierced it through his chest. Blood flowered from the wound as she withdrew, but Mercer didn't move. He'd been dead when he hit the ground.

"Ginna!" Brynjolf called from above. "Are you all right, lass?"

"Did you get the Key, Ginna?" Karliah followed, leaning down over the ledge. The ruins trembled once more, heavy chunk of stone dislodging from the ceiling and falling to dust on the ground. And then there was water, a slow pour rolling in from the lake above through the broken pipes that spanned the ceiling.

"Ginna!" He bellowed again, a worried edge in his tone that she hadn't answered.

"I'm okay," she shook off the stunned haze and drew her stare toward the landing to meet with his.

"Grab the Key, Ginna and the eyes and let's go! Brynjolf, the door."

"No luck there, lass!" he bellowed back. "Something must have fallen on the other side of the door because it isn't moving."

"We have to find another way out of here before this place fills with water."

Kneeling down beside Mercer's body, Ginna yanked the satchel from him and opened it to look inside. She reached in and lifted one of the statue's eyes, peering down to see the other shining up at her from the depths of the bag like a light in the darkness. She lowered the stone back inside and rooted around until her hand grasped the Skeleton Key. Drawing it out into the light, she felt its power; a strange surge rippled through her, into her fingers, up the length of her arm and straight to her heart. Eyes closed, it was as if she could hear Nocturnal whispering inside her soul, a chorus of strange urges for her to explore her own potential.

She shuddered, stunned with chills of intrigue and delight and then she shook them off when Brynjolf arrived beside her, grabbing her by the shoulder of her armor and drawing her quickly up the stairs that wound around the statue. The Key had dropped back into the Satchel and the sudden movement brought her back to her senses. For the first time she realized the immediate danger they were in when she glanced back over her shoulder and saw the water rushing higher and higher.

"We need to find a way out, lass, or it's the end of us. All of us."

That stunning revelation startled her to action. "I didn't come all this way to die."

"Good." Even though she couldn't see his face, she could almost see him smiling. "Neither did I."

Karliah appeared behind them, pushing them faster up the stairs. The water was seeping into Ginna's boots, quickly lapping at her shins, her knees, crawling up her thighs and hovering about her waist. They were at the top and Karliah was gesturing toward the broken pipes. "Up there," the other woman said. "It looks like an opening into a cave. When the water rises, try to swim. It's our only hope of escape."

Ginna could barely hear what she was saying over the furious rush of gushing water threatening to drown them, but she followed Karliah's lead even after it rose up just under her chin. Drawing a deep breath into her lungs, she prepared to hold it just in time. Ducking under, she pushed with her legs to try and stay above water but it was filling in too quickly and within seconds it had pulled them all under. The heavy weight of the Eyes of the Falmer on her back was almost more than she could carry as she stretched and kicked her legs, arms pushing downward to lift her through the water.

It was almost impossible to see under water, the murky filth of crumbling stone and silt swirling about with their movement, but a hand reached for hers, tugging hard and drawing her toward a faint hint of blue light. He pushed her up first and as soon as she found her footing and climbed out, Ginna lowered her hand into the water for him to grab onto. He outweighed her by several stone, but the thought of losing him sent adrenaline surging through her and she pulled until he rose gasping into the cave.

"I like a good swim just as much as the next guy, but this is ridiculous," he said, reaching up to lower the hood of his cloak around his shoulders. Streams of wet red hair clung to his cheeks still dripping, and when he shook his head a spray of droplets whizzed through the air. Ginna had never been so happy to see another person's face in her life, and upon realizing that it was over… really over, she felt all the tension in her body melt away.

"My love," she whispered, emotion replacing the tension, gripping her hard in its grasp. She threw herself at him, arms circling around him as he reached up to lower the hood of her own cloak so he could see her face. He was kissing her, eager, furious kisses across her brow and her cheeks until at long last he came to her lips and drew her in so deep she wasn't sure for a moment where she began and he ended.

"We did it," he murmured when he finally drew back to look down into her eyes. "Mercer's dead."

"Aye," she blinked furiously to hold back the tears she could feel swelling and burning in her eyes. "It's over." Ginna hadn't even realized just how emotionally satisfying and draining it would be, but inside she felt lighter than she had since she'd first come to Skyrim months before. Was the curse broken? Were they truly free?

"Come on, let's get out of here."


	44. Chapter 44

Karliah lingered alone in the shadows near the center of the cave, giving them their space and their moment, but Ginna could feel her watching them. Did their love remind her of the love she'd once shared with Gallus? A love that ended far too quickly and left her feeling empty and forlorn for all those years.

When Ginna turned to look over at her, it broke her heart. She looked so… alone. Reaching down for Brynjolf's hand, she tugged him forward. As they approached, Karliah spoke without even looking up, murmuring, "I can't believe it's really over. Twenty-five years in exile and just like that, it's done."

"Are you all right, Karliah?" Brynjolf reached a hand out to rest on her shoulder and she lifted her sad, lavender eyes to meet with his. "Did I hurt you, lass?"

"No," she shook her head. "I'm fine."

"I'm so sorry… I don't know what came over me back there. I could have killed you…"

"It was Mercer's doing, not yours. Don't beat yourself up over it. All that matters is that Mercer's dead." She turned those eyes on Ginna, and for a moment she saw a flicker of worry in them. "Did you get the Key, Ginna? Please tell me you got the Key."

Nodding, she unslung the heavy satchel from her shoulder and opened it up in front of them both before reaching in to grab the Skeleton Key and draw it out into the light for them to see. "I also got both Eyes of the Falmer."

Karliah's eyes light up, the corner of her soft mouth jerking upright with a grin. "Well done, Ginna. They are yours to do with what you will. And now, all that remains is to ensure the safe return of the Skeleton Key." Even as the very thought of giving up that key pained her, she held it out to Karliah, but she shook her head. "No, my friend. That task is yours."

"What do you mean?"

"I can't bear to face Nocturnal again, not now." Her gaze lowered again, heavily lidded eyes veiled with shame. "I would ask you to return the Key to the Twilight Sepulcher."

"All right," she agreed. "It sounds a simple enough task."

"I'm afraid it's not that simple, actually," she lamented. "When the Skeleton Key was stolen from the Twilight Sepulcher, our access to the Inner Sanctum was removed. The only way to bring it back will be through the Pilgrim's Path."

"I take it you've never used the Pilgrim's Path?"

"The Path wasn't created for the Nightingales. It was created to test those who wished to serve Nocturnal in other ways. As a consequence, I have no knowledge of what you'll be facing."

"Whatever the lass has to face, we'll face it together," Brynjolf assured them. "All three of us."

"No, Brynjolf," she shook her head. "You'll be needed back at the Thieves Guild to keep order while she's away. Mercer's death will be difficult for everyone to face and there is the matter of restoring the Guild."

"Damn it," he lowered his head. "The lass is right. The Guild will be in a transitional state of chaos for awhile. They will need me until we can seat you in your rightful place as Guildmaster."

She still wasn't sure about the whole Guildmaster thing. Even Maven's voice in the back of her mind was too distant for her to wrap her head around, but there was still time. There was the matter of restoring the Guild to its former glory and who knew how long that would take.

"I will walk the Pilgrim's Path alone then," Ginna sighed. "Though I still don't understand why you won't come with me, Karliah."

"I… I can't bear to face Nocturnal after my failure to protect the Key. I'm afraid you'll have to face the end of your journey… alone."

"Not alone," Brynjolf insisted. "Rune will accompany you, gladly. In fact, he wasn't happy at all when I told him he couldn't come with us to take care of Mercer."

"Rune is a good friend," she nodded.

"Here." Karliah reached over her shoulder and unhooked her bow, drawing it out to hand it over to Ginna. "I want you to take this with you. I'm not certain if it will prove useful to you in the Sepulcher, but I have a feeling you're going to need it more than I do."

"Karliah, this is your bow," Ginna protested. "You… I…"

"You were a friend to me when there was no one else. You trusted me, stood beside me, even when you had doubts. Please take it," she insisted. "Even this will never be enough to thank you for all you've done, my friend. I've had this bow almost my entire life, and it's never let me down. I hope it brings you the same luck."

"I don't know what to say."

She'd never had friends like them before, never had people around her that she'd trust her life with, but she trusted Karliah and Brynjolf, Rune and the others. Even Marcurio, who would never believe the things she'd seen in that old Dwemer ruin.

"Where will you go now, Karliah?"

"I need some time alone, to come to terms with everything, to find peace again, though I'm not sure I will ever know it. But I promise you that we will meet again." They embraced, and when she drew back, Karliah reached for both of their hands, holding their trinity strong for a silent moment before she said, "It is a rare thing indeed when two of our kind finds what you have together. Take good care of one another. Love and cherish each other always." She squeezed their fingers inside her own. "Shadows keep you both."

She walked away, leaving them alone there in the cavern. Ginna didn't know how long they stood there watching the empty entrance after she walked through it, but her departure left an emptiness behind that Ginna wasn't sure anything would ever fill again except Karliah's company.

"Come on, love," Brynjolf finally said, lowering a gently hand to her shoulder. "Let's go home."

"Home," she liked the sound of that. She'd said it thousands of times in her life. _I should go home. You can find me at home._Never had it ever felt as powerful and right as it did when he said it.

His arm dropped to rest against the small of her back as he ushered her out into the oncoming twilight. They'd been inside that hell an entire day, morning come and gone, afternoon dwindling as its final threads dropped away to yield to night. It would be a long journey home. Maybe they could find a couple of horses along the way, or maybe they could take their time—enjoy a few quiet days together, as newlyweds often did after a wedding.

"If I sell even just one of The Eyes of the Falmer, I bet we could buy that house in Markarth," she noted. "We could use the profit from the other Eye to help get the Guild back on its feet until the jobs start to flow in more smoothly."

"You're never going to let go of that bloody house, are you?"

"Probably not," she shrugged, smiling up at him.

"Markarth isn't exactly the most pleasant place in Skyrim to live, you know?"

"We don't have to live there all the time. I like Riften, but that house… I don't know. I just want it. I want it to be mine and no one else's."

Brynjolf laughed, leaning a little closer to her as their staggered steps moved them south toward Winterhold. "You really are a spoiled little princess," he teased, lowering to kiss the top of her head. "But you're my spoiled princess and it's one of the reasons I love you, lass. You remind me why I chose to stick with this profession in the first place, even when it seemed our luck was all but run out."

"What good is gold if you don't use it to make a better life for yourself?"

"Aye," he agreed. "But right now, the only thing I can think of that would make my life better is finding a warm place to lay with my woman."

"Let's see what we can do ease your suffering," she grinned, reaching down to take his hand.

As they traveled, Ginna really did feel at peace, at least as peaceful as she could be still knowing Brutus was out there. His day would come, and when it did it would be her hand that dealt the swift justice he deserved. In the meantime, she had a new life ahead of her as a Nightingale, the Pilgrim's Path and plenty of other new adventures waiting to be explored and a husband who wanted to take over the world with her.

All in all, she thought she was doing pretty well for herself.

Her father would be proud, she realized. Not the man who'd brought her into the world, but the man who'd raised her. Her Guild-father, who'd instilled his values in her and taught her that without honor, thieves were no better than beggars and no matter where she found herself, she would never forget that.

~Fin~

A/N: There is more Brynjolf and Ginna to come, I promise. I have already begun working on the sequel, The Pilgrim's Path, but the writing is much more slow-going because a great deal of that plot is more original and less game-quest oriented. The first six chapters of The Pilgrim's Path are posted on my site for those who don't wish to wait.

I hope you enjoyed _To Catch a Thief_. Thank you all for reading and for those of you who take time to comment and let me know you're enjoying the stories, I appreciate you more than you will ever know.


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